Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows
by wootwootsugaplum
Summary: This the Deathly Hallows, written in Hermione's point of view. It follows the book, I will only change a bit of dialogue and small stuff. Disclaimer- Oh, stop flattering me, I don't own Harry Potter. Discontinued, though I may come back to it eventually.
1. Repudiation

Chapter One- Repudiation

Logic seems to be the one thing in my life that actually makes sense. After all, it is, and always will be, the difference between right and wrong, common sense and disarray, peace and commotion. Perhaps that is why I like it so much, what with my concrete thinking style and straightforward assumptions.

So I guess that's why when I was confronted with the circumstance of traveling with Harry on his search for the Horcruxes, the obvious answer was yes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. We couldn't be separated, that's just the way things were.

But now I have to do something terrible. I know they will never forgive me… but it has to be done.

With me gone, they are not safe. And that should be my first priority, my parents' safety. But how can I possibly bring myself to make my parents completely forget about me?

I have been planning this moment for two weeks. I returned to our home in Canterbury at the end of the summer, after Dumbledore's funeral. I had been sad and secluded for the first few days, but then I created my plan. And I realized that if I were going to follow through with it, this was no way for me to be acting. Why would I want what could possibly be my last few days with my parents to be filled with myself wallowing in my own guilt, fear, and depression. And so I spent the next fortnight spending every waking minute with my parents. They noticed a definite and (quite possibly) alarming change in me, I'm sure, but did not comment upon it. They understood that there was a war coming, and that I would not be returning to Hogwarts because of it, but I would tell them no more. Perhaps they wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with them.

But now that the time has come, I wonder if that was a smart move. It was wonderful getting to know my parents is a way I haven't been able to in years, but maybe that just made my job today harder. It brought me to see my parents as actual people, not _just_ as parents. And it brought us into a relationship that I would trade for only one thing.

And, unfortunately, that one thing had arrived.

My search for the Horcruxes, and the destruction of Voldemort.

* * *

I wake up early this morning. I want to get going early, as well as get today over with as soon as possible. I hear Mum in the kitchen already, making breakfast and Dad's favorite morning tea. I remain in bed for a few minutes, hating myself, wondering how I am going to find it in myself to do what I know I must. Eventually, I drag myself out of bed and dress in jeans and the first blouse I find. I slip my wand in my pocket and check my beaded bag for the hundredth time, to verify that I have everything I could possibly need. _Books, clothes, shoes, medicines_… I take a final look around my room, marveling at how little it had changed over the past seven years. Still a bright purple mum had picked out to surprise me with during my first year at Hogwarts, the only thing that had ever changed was the number of bookshelves contained in the small room. When I first began at Hogwarts, I had had only a short bookshelf that ran from one wall to the next, but now I have two individual ones, running from floor to ceiling, wall to wall opposite each other. And every inch of the shelves is usually crammed tightly with books, books of spells, books of Arithmancy, books of medicine, even a single book about Divination. I don't like to think about that subject, though, so it is usually crammed at the back of the shelves, behind a few heavy jinx encyclopedias.

Now, however, all but one of these books have been stuffed into my beaded bag, with the hope that I will eventually get around to organizing and sorting them. All of my clothes and other necessities have been folded neatly and organized and thrown into my bag as well. As I gaze around my room for what could be the last time, I try to remember what it looked before I packed everything and left my drawers flung open and my bed unmade. All of a sudden, I am hit with the realization that I really am about to erase my parent's memories and go on a fool's journey, searching for Horcruxes without a clue, without a plan. And my vacant, derelict room suddenly feels like the only place I want to be now. I want to dive under my covers and pretend none of this is happening, that I will fall asleep and when I wake up it will be three years ago, before Voldemort came back and before any possibility of any of this happening was instigated.

But this is illogical. Time travel is impossible, even in the wizarding world. No matter what I saw that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries.

I would never forget that night. The sight of the hummingbird, trapped in that bell jar, going from egg to fully-grown bird and back again in a matter of seconds, the knowledge of even the _possibility_ of legitimate prophecies, the pain of being cursed…. No, that night was stuck with me forever, as was the blotchy, ugly scar on my chest. I would forever be mesmerized with how those witches and wizards managed to reverse and fast forward time in just one small cylinder of space, just as though it was their own little toy, not an immense, complex, intricate thing like _time. _This, too, does not follow any logical reasoning I have heard of in my life.

_I wish they wrote books on stuff like _that, I think, and finally deciding that I was at last ready to go, step out of my room and down the stairs into the kitchen.

The instant I see my mother and father, I stop dead in my tracks. They are sitting at the kitchen counter, laughing at something between the two of them. _How can I do this to them?_

I gather every bit of my courage, and step into the kitchen. When my mum sees me, her eyes brighten even more and she says brightly, "Good morning, sweetie! How did you sleep?"

I manage to give her a small smile without looking in too much pain (I hope) and say, "Just fine. I have to tell you something."

My fathers eyebrows furrow worriedly, and says, "Go ahead, what is it?"

I take a deep breath to calm myself. I look at my parents, both of whom are gazing at me steadily. Hating myself, I sat, "I told you how I have to go soon. I have to go today. And I can't leave you here without me, the Death Eaters could come and hurt you, or worse. So I have to do something to protect you. Don't be mad please. I love you both so much." I have to stop talking now, because I hear my voice beginning to shake and feel my throat begin to close up.

Before my parents can say a word, or even react in any way, I whisper, "_Recolomentis."_ Their eyes immediately glaze over, as I had known they would. But it didn't make it any easier. I begin whispering the various aspects of their new life to them, that they are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and their lifelong dream is to move to Australia. Wendell is a champion chessman, and Monica is making plans to open her own bakery. Dad – no, _Wendell_, I can't think of them as my parents anymore. That will just make this harder. Hermione Granger has no parents – just as _Wendell _and _Monica_ have no daughter. Wendell and Monica met at an opera in London, and fell in love two months later. They were married two years ago, and have since been saving up money to enable their move. Thanks to Wendell's most recent Chess Tournament victory, they finally had the money to do so (In reality, they have had enough money to move into a waterfront mansion in Sydney for years, due to their skill as dentists).

I end the spell, then sprint out the front door as fast as I can before my boiling hot tears begin flowing freely. I cannot bear to remain in my childhood home and longer.

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So how do you like it? Please review, it would be much appreciated.

~wootwootsugaplum


	2. Invocation

Finally got around to writing this! I saw the movie today, it was absolutely amazing! That's really what inspired me to get writing tonight, instead of procrastinating like I usually do.

I'm so sorry I haven't been writing very often, but I have today! Hope you like it!

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Chapter 2- Invocation

I sprint as fast as I can through the streets of Canterbury, not caring where I was going or how I got there. I realize later that I probably should have been paying more attention to my surroundings. It is, after all, wartime, and Death Eaters could be anywhere, waiting to ambush an unsuspecting Muggle born. But nothing happens, and so I keep running.

Eventually, a massive stitch in my side brings me to a sudden halt. I look around, trying to figure out where I am, and realize I am at the Canterbury Cathedral. My father used to bring my Grandmother and me here when I was a small child, and together we would pray to God, thanking Him for all of our blessings and praying for our family and friends. We stopped coming a year before I was accepted into Hogwarts, because my Grandmother had passed away. We just saw no point in going to the Cathedral anymore, because it had been for her that we usually prayed anyway. She had been sick for a few months before she finally fell asleep forever, and I was sure that she was in a better place now. But that didn't make me feel less guilty. I have always thought since that if I had only learned of my magical abilities earlier, maybe I would have been able to heal her, or at least bring her to St. Mungo's. I still haven't completely gotten over her death.

For the first time in years, I enter the Cathedral and look upon the beautiful buttresses and the mass of people gathered in prayer. I find a space in the back of the pews and kneel beside an old couple. The little old lady glances up as I sit beside her, and her expression changes to that of concern almost immediately. I must look a real mess.

The lady gently removes a handkerchief from her husband's pocket and presses it into my hand. I hesitate to take it, thinking of curses, and Death Eaters. But would God have brought me here if He wanted me to be captured or killed? Not in this holy place. So I take it, giving her a grateful expression. I wipe my eyes, blow my nose

The Muggle lady smiles at me and returns her attention to the service. I bow my own head and pray for the first time in eight years. I pray for my parents, that they will settle down in Australia and remain safe. I pray for the Weasleys, that they stay safe and away from harm throughout this war. And I pray for Harry, Ron, and myself. _Please, Lord. Keep Harry, Ron, and me safe as we try to find these Horcruxes. Protect especially Ron, because I couldn't bear it if he were hurt in any way. Don't tell _him_ I said that though._

I don't know how long it takes, but eventually I exhaust my need for prayer. I stand slowly, lay the handkerchief on the seat beside the old lady, leave the Cathedral.

I feel... calm. More so than I have felt in what could be years, but is probably just weeks.

Now I wonder what I am to do next. Head to the Burrow? Wouldn't they have put up enchantments against intruders? I wish I had thought of this _before_ I ran away from my parents' house. What was the point of being so smart if I had no common sense?

_Do I Apparate to the Burrow, or should I owl them, let them know I am coming? _I don't know what to do. After a long while of deliberation, however, as I walk through the streets of Canterbury, I decide to just Apparate to the Burrow. It couldn't hurt, could it? The worst that could happen is that I can't get through the enchantments. But even then I could just send my Patronus through it, to ask them to let me through.

I step between two close-together buildings, take out my wand. I've always loved my wand. Vine wood, dragon heartstring. I love the detail of the carved vines, creating tiny grooves around the base the perfect shape for my hand to fit around. I still remember Mr. Ollivander telling me about the dragon from which he had taken the heartstring.

He was visiting Romania, as he did twice a year, to acquire more dragon heartstrings to use for his wands. He had just Apparated to one of the giant enclosures where the dragon Caretakers take care of sick or injured dragons. There had only been one dragon in the enclosure at that point, a Romanian Longhorn that had been attacked by a hunter intent on stealing its horn to sell for potion ingredients.

Mr. Ollivander watched a Caretaker whisper to the ailing dragon for a while, as it roared and belched great puffs of flameless steam. After what he said had felt like an hour, the dragon finally passed. Immediately, Mr. Ollivander had set to work extracting a heartstring from the chest of the poor animal.

_"Dragon heart strings are always stronger the sooner after death they are extracted, Miss Granger," _Mr. Ollivander had told me, leaning towards me, my new wand in his hand, staring at me through those scary, silver eyes. _"Your wand is sure to be a powerful one. Use it well, and for the right things. Always."_

And so I had. Or I'd at least like to think I was using my abilities to help those less fortunate and less able than I. This was one of the reasons I was so intent upon working for S.P.E.W. Because that was one way I could help others that couldn't help themselves. Of course, Ron would just laugh at me and mock _"spew"_ if I told him any of that.

Anyway.

_Determination, Destination, Deliberation,_ I think to prepare myself for Apparition. Then I twist on the spot and feel the familiar suffocating sensation that accompanies Apparition, and disappear.

* * *

So tell me how you like it! It's a bit different, I think, from what I will usually have her thinking about. Hermione is not going to be overly religious in this story, I just felt that there was something like that in her, especially during Deathly Hallows. Tell me what you think, please review!


	3. Aviation

Hey team! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews, all five of them! May not seem like many to you, but it brings joy to my heart to know that people are out there reading and enjoying my story. And now, here we go!

* * *

Chapter Three- Aviation

After the usual spell of brief suffocation and discomfort, I open my eyes to find myself in a marsh-like area, complete with a winding stream and tall, thick grasses. Upon further assessment, I see the Burrow, about a hundred yards away. Tall, crooked, and comforting, the Borrow is my favorite place in the world. It looks a bit different now, after almost being burned down last holiday, but it is easy to tell it is the same place.

I set off toward the Burrow, and after a minute of walking I hear voices coming through the open door from the kitchen.

"Molly, dear, could you hand me my traveling cloak? I believe it's just over there, on my armchair." Mr. Weasley, on his way to work.

"Yes, of course. Arthur. You have a safe day today. I love you, dear." Mrs. Weasley says, her voice slightly strained. It is obvious, just from the sound of her voice, that she worries about him whenever he is at work, that he might be attacked at any moment because of his blood traitor status.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appear at the doorway just as I emerge into the clearing in which the Burrow is built.

"Hermione, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaims, bustling towards me and enveloping me in a motherly hug. The action makes my breath catch, as it brings back painful memories, thoughts, and feelings.

"How are you, we are so glad to see you!" Mrs. Weasley continues, having not noticed anything.

"It's great to see you too!" I respond truthfully. I love Molly and Arthur, they have always been like a second set of parents to me. But I can't keep thinking about stuff like that, or I will break down in front of them and have to explain everything to them. Not that that would be a bad thing, but I don't want everyone to know the terrible thing I had to do to my parents.

"I have to be off, ladies, but you are welcome to share Ginny's room, while you are here, as usual, Hermione. Have a good day." Mr. Weasley gives Mrs. Weasley a peck on the cheek, gently pats me on the shoulder, and sets off the way I had come. Mrs. Weasley watches him anxiously as he leaves. Even when the familiar _crack_ that signals Disapparition comes and echoes around the clearing, she stares at the place from which he disappeared for a minute.

As if waking up, she looks to me and says, "Why don't you come in, dear, Ginny and Ron should be up soon, it's only just past 10. I'll make you some eggs, shall I? And how about some tea?"

"That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Weasley, thank you," Only now do I realize how very hungry I am, as I follow her into the kitchen and sit down at the kitchen table.

Ten minutes later, I am sitting at the kitchen table being fed eggs, toast, bacon, tea, and biscuits by Mrs. Weasley, who seems to have decided I need some fattening up, judging by the massive amount of food she plopped down before me, and her saying, "Now eat all of this up, you are looking a bit peaky. You went to France recently? Of course. Those French _never _seem to have the right amount of meat on their bones..."

The tone her voice took after saying this left me in no doubt about whom in particular she was speaking. I didn't say anything, though, because I didn't want her to be set any more against Bill and Fleur's wedding. So instead I have been shoveling food into my mouth to save me the need to speak, while she looks on approvingly.

I was in mid-chew of a rather large bite of scrambled eggs when a flash of red appeared at the foot of the stairs. I look up to see Ron for the first time in weeks. My breath catches, and I stop chewing my eggs, just staring at him. He looks amazing, even in his too-small pajamas and completely untidy hair. But his eyes are alight, staring back at me just as I stare at him.

"Hermione!" He exclaims finally. "I didn't know you were coming today!"

I try to respond, but my mouth is too full for my words to be intelligible. It comes out as a totally repulsive "Nyeh, behnoo duffink-"

I chew furiously, blushing a fiery shade of scarlet, and swallow. Then I throw him a smile and say, "I didn't either, I just couldn't stay in the Muggle world for any longer. I hope it's not inconvenient!" I add in, so they know I am not being presumptuous, expecting them to house me whenever I tell them to.

Mrs. Weasley begins to answer, but Ron beats her to it: "It's brilliant, I'm glad you're here!"

I smile shyly at him, but can't respond because at that moment a shriek comes from the foot of the stairs.

_"Hermione!"_

In a flash of red, Ginny sprints into the room and tackles me into a bear hug. I laugh, and hug her back.

"Hello, Ginny. Having a good summer?"

Without releasing me from her massive hug, Ginny responds sarcastically, "Oh it's been wonderful, you know. With all of these breakouts and captures and stuff? _Best summer ever_."

I try to extricate myself from her vice-like grip, and only manage when Ron says, "Let the girl _breathe_, Gin."

"So where is everyone?" I ask. "Fred, George, Bill... Has Harry arrived here yet?"

"Well, Fred and George live above their shop still," Ron responds. "Have Mum scared out of her wits, she thinks they're going to be murdered in the night for trying to boost peoples' spirits so much. But they can take care of themselves."

"You never know, Ron, I think she's got a right and a reason to worry about them. But I hope they stay safe, too."

"They'll be fine, nothing will happen to them." I get the feeling he's saying this partly to reassure himself that they will remain safe and healthy, and Ron continues, "Harry's still at the Dursley's, Dad and the rest of the Order have been brainstorming ideas to get him here. I think there's supposed to be an Order meeting tonight. Hey," His eyes light up as he is struck by a sudden inspiration. I have always loved the color of his eyes, a clear, sky blue with flecks of white all throughout the irises. I love how they change colors, depending on what he was wearing. It was a bit difficult for me to concentrate on what he was saying, while his bright eyes were staring at me so intensely. "Now we're seventeen, we're old enough to be in the Order! So we could at least take part in the meeting tonight, help them think of ways to get Harry here."

"You're right," I exclaim. "Oh, there's so much we could do now! I'll have to think about this... Hey, where did Ginny go?" I hadn't even noticed that, while I was listening to Ron ponder about the Order and staring at his beautiful eyes, Ginny had left the room.

"Oh, she left when I mentioned the Order. She's not seventeen yet, remember?" Ron answers my questioning look. Ginny and I are so close, and she so mature, I never think about how much younger than Harry, Ron, and I she is.

"Oh... Yes, I had forgotten..." I answer thoughtfully. It must be terrible for her to not be allowed to do anything for Harry, the boy she loves more than anything else in the world, just because she is a year too young. I'll make it up to her later.

Ron, possibly growing tired of watching me think so deeply, intervenes my thoughts. "So what do you want to do today? How about some Quidditch, in the orchard?" He laughs at my expression, which I assume went from thoughtful to slightly maniacally fearful in half a second. Ron has a great laugh, his eyes really do sparkle. "It's ok, Gin and I won't beat you _too _badly."

And so an hour later, after Ron bullied me into setting _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ aside and getting me onto a completely antediluvian broomstick, the three of us were in the orchard, Ron grabbing a normal soccer ball from the toolshed.

"Are you sure this thing is _safe_?" I whisper to Ginny, earning myself a whack in the shins from the sensitive broomstick. Wincing, I continue. "It's so _old,_ won't it break once I get on it? And I don't think it likes me," I add, as the broom whacks me again.

"If you would just _stop_ insulting it, it would like you better!" She hisses back. "Say you're sorry!"

"_What?"_

"Apologize to it! Brooms have feelings too!"

Feeling like a complete idiot, I look down at the dilapidated broomstick. It is still and silent now, as if it is waiting to see if I will really do it, just as I am.

"Er... Mr. Broomstick? I'm... Er... I'm sorry I called you old and questioned your safety." I look up at Ginny, who is nodding approvingly. "Right."

"So are you going to get on, or what?" Ron has returned from the shed, and obviously saw the whole thing. Blushing furiously again, I scramble onto the broom, just as Ginny smoothly jumps on her own broom and takes off in one fluid motion. "Show off," I mutter. Ron laughs.

"Stay close to me, okay?" I plead in a whisper to him, so Ginny, ten yards away, laughing her head off, won't hear me.

Ron looks at me seriously. He seems to contemplate the order for a second, then whispers back, "I'll never leave you."

This catches me by surprise. I know he meant so much more by this then just that he would not let me fall off of a silly broomstick. He is telling me that he will come on this insane trip to search for Horcruxes, that he will protect me however he can. It's more than I can handle; I don't know what to say. I _want_ to respond, but my brain seems to have mysteriously stopped functioning. But it begins its familiar whirring and running when Ginny soars past, still laughing, shouting at us, "Will you two stop _flirting_ and get in the air already?"

I blush for the third time today, wait for Ron to get a few feet in the air, and kick off of the ground.

_Oh, no, I don't like this, I don't like this, oh, no, oh, no, oh, no... Oh, no, I REALLY don't like this!_ I think as Mr. Broomstick climbs altitude. I glance quickly around, catching sight of a passing butterfly. Ok, I was just passed by a _butterfly_. So that puts me at, what, half a mile an hour? A day? Half a mile a day, that's almost going backward.

I am gripping Mr. Broomstick so tightly my knuckles have turned white, but I don't want to loosen my hold in the slightest, for fear I will slip off. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut now, so I don't have to see how high up I am. I must be at least firty yards up, judging by how freaked out I am, and how queasy my stomach is feeling.

"Hermione..." Ron's soft voice comes from just to my right. "Hermione, you're okay, you're _not_ going to fall off, the broom is _not_ going to break, you're alright, okay?"

I just shake my head in disagreement.

_ I don't like this, I don't like this, I don't like this..._

"Hermione." Ron says again. "Open your eyes." When I don't respond, he murmurs, "C'mon, 'Mione, open your eyes. It's not scary up here, you just have to give it a try."

I take a deep breath, grip Mr. Broomstick even tighter, slowly open my eyes. The first thing I see is Ron, his beautiful blue eyes staring at me with an expression I have no name for. He smiles my favorite lopsided grin, and says, "Good! See, it's not that bad up here."

I can kind of see his point. The wind in my face, the sun on my back, the smell of apples, are all very nice. But there's still the fact that I'm so high up, I must be a hundred yards in the air by now!

"Okay, Hermione, _relax_, don't try to throttle your broom. Hold it more gently."

"I think Mr. Broomstick is okay with my throttling him." I mumble.

Ron laughs again. "No, I don't think Mr. Broomstick wants you to strangle him. Just let go a little bit, I won't let you fall off."

Eventually, still staring into Ron's eyes, I gradually loosen my strangle hold on Mr. Broomstick. It does help me relax a bit, and taking hold of what little courage I have left, I shift my eyes from Ron's, down to the ground, expecting to see a tiny burrow and a little Mrs. Weasley the size of an ant.

What I don't expect to see was an old soccer ball the size of an old soccer ball and an ant the size of an ant.

We are just barely a yard off the ground! And I had thought I was overcoming my fear of flying.

Noticing my assessment, Ron says, "You thought you were so much higher up, didn't you?"

"Well... yes. Maybe I'm not as brave as I had hoped."

Ron's expression is suddenly stern. "Hermione, you are the bravest person I know, not many people could get on a broom, being as scared of flying as you are. Not to mention all the other stuff we have gotten into in the past few years."

I flash him a small smile. "Thank you, Ron. But I wasn't alone doing all of those things. You were there every second, just as you are now."

He grins, and at that moment Ginny rushes past us again. "I thought I told you two to stop flirting! Are we going to play some Quidditch, or what?"

Ron turns to her and calls, "Yeah, let's go! I'll be Keeper." Turning to me, he says, "All you have to do is try to throw the soccer ball through the hoop, okay?"

But I think this is pushing it. I may be able to stay on an unmoving broom a yard in the air, but I don't know how well this'll go when throwing and actually _moving _are involved.

"Oh, Ron, can't I just sit this one out? You and Ginny can play, I'll just make it , er, uneven teams..."

He studies my face again, which I'm sure is fearful and nervous. I'm like an open book, as he and Harry have told me many times. Whatever I'm feeling at the moment, I will let people know, whether I am happy, sad, angry, or pensive. Apparently deciding (finally) that I am right and this was pushing it, he says with a slight chuckle, "Yeah, I guess." And zooms off towards the goal post, a giant circle of metal tied into a fork in a tall tree's branches.

Which leaves me in a predicament.

"Ronald Weasley, _how do I get down from here?_"

I can see him laughing from the goal, but he makes no move to come back and help me down. So I am left hanging in the air like an idiot, with no idea how to go anywhere or do anything.

"Ok, Mr. Broomstick," I mutter. "How in the _world_ do I get down from here?"

The broomstick does not respond in any way.

"Alright... Go down?" I ask it. Ginny said it has feelings, so maybe it will take pity on me and help me down.

Still no response.

"Descend! Please!"

Nothing.

"_Ronald Weasley, you had better get back over here and tell me how to get down from this thing!"_

He just laughs, I can hear it from here. Ginny's giggling, too, I can see her shoulders quaking as she aims her next shot.

I am just contemplating whether I can risk taking my wand out of my pocket and _making_ Mr. Broomstick but me down, without falling off, when Ron is back.

"Lean forward slightly." He instructs me. Immediately, I do as he says, slightly shifting my weight forward. Immediately, Mr. Broomstick dips slowly back to the ground. The instant my toes touch the ground, I jump off the broom and fall onto all fours.

I jump back up and turn to face Ron, who is quaking with silent laughter, slightly red in the face as he tries to hold it in. He lands neatly next to me.

"_What was that?"_ I almost scream at him. "You just _left_ me there in _mid-air_, I didn't know how to get down!"

Finally managing to stop laughing, possibly because he knows I have my wand, and what I can do with it when I get mad enough. "I just wanted to see what you would do, if you remembered that flying lesson we had in our first year, remember that?"

"I do quite a good job at blocking unpleasant memories."

"Aww, come on, Hermione. I knew you wouldn't fall off, that thing is a training broom, it's specially made so first-time riders won't hurt themselves."

Though I knew he was trying to comfort me, I was still too mad to let him off the hook that easily. "Yes, but there's still the fact that you _did_ leave me Ron, after you said you wouldn't!"

Ron finally seems to get what I'm so mad about. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking-"

"What does this mean for when we're on the road together? Are you just going to leave me because you don't _feel_ like being there for me that day? Am I _that_ unimportant to you?"

All of a sudden, Ron rushes toward me, gathers me up in his arms, and holds me close to him, just as he held me at Dumbledore's funeral, less then a month ago. My brain goes fuzzy again, and I am having trouble breathing, remembering why I am mad at him in the first place.

"No, Hermione, that's not what I meant at all." He squeezes me tighter, and continues. "I would _never_ leave you for something stupid. I'll be there for you, everyday, whenever, for as long as you want me there." He pauses, then rushes on, releasing his hold on me a bit. "And Harry too, of course. 'Cause you're our best friend."

I sigh. I had thought he was going to, finally, tell me if he really feels for me what I feel for him, but alas, no such luck. He doesn't like me like that, he just thinks of me as a friend, nothing more. _But, _I think as Ron holds me close against his warm body, _if this is what I get for being best friends with Ron, I think it's worth it._

_

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_

So how do you like it? It's quite long, isn't it? I had planned to write more, but I'm quite tired tonight. And i think 3000 words is quite a lot for a single chapter. I'm trying to stay as in character as I can, if anyone has any ideas for ways I can do a better job of it, don't hesitate to pass them along! Hope you enjoyed, and have a nice day!

P.S. Has everyone voted for Emma Watson in the People's Choice Awards? She is nominated for favorite movie star under 25!


	4. War of Two Kinds

Chapter Four- War of Two Kinds

Later that day, Ron, Ginny, and I are playing Gobstones in the sitting room. Or rather, _I_ am trying to read and Ron and Ginny are having a Gob fight. I have been hit four times so far, despite my being completely across the room from the two of them. I am just about to jump up and tell them that I will _not_ help them clean up all of the Gob, they'll just have to do it themselves, with a bit of elbow grease (seeing as Ron seems to be allergic to cleaning spells, and Ginny is underage), when Alastor Moody stomps into the room, followed by Tonks, Remus, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Lupin and Tonks are holding hands, and the former looks younger and happier then I have ever seen him.

"So is this the meeting?" Ron asks excitedly, seeming to completely forget about the disgusting state the room is in and the copious amount of Gob dripping off his face and onto the floor.

"Well, it's not a picnic, is it, boy?" Moody growls.

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny, you three had better go upstairs until the meeting is finished," says Mr. Weasley, but seems to know Ron is going to protest. And sure enough, no sooner are the words out of his mouth does Ron say, "Hermione and me are overage, can't we take part in the meeting? It's about moving Harry, right? Harry's our best friend! We have to help!"

Mrs. Weasley looks mutinous, and says, "Absolutely not! We do _not_ need you two in here, getting outrageous ideas into your minds! Out, _now_!"

But Tonks seems to have other plans.

"Let them stay, Molly, they _are_ overage. And, from the little I've heard from Moody, we will need them."

"Fine, but Ginny, you are underage. Upstairs, now!" Mrs. Weasley is still furious.

But not as furious as Ginny. Poor girl, she misses out on so much, just because she is so much younger than Harry, Ron, and I are. She stands and stomps out of the room, completely red in the face. I can hear her banging and hitting things all the way up the stairs, until, finally, she closes her door with a slam.

Ron, on the other hand, is delighted. He sits on the couch, beside me, and looks around at everyone in the room fervently.

"Now we have to just wait for Fred and George, Bill and Fleur, and Hagrid."

The adults move into the kitchen, where there is more room, but Mrs. Weasley remains behind. Still tumultuous, she swivels towards Ron and fumes, "And _what_, may I ask, have you three been up to? What is all over my sitting room, what are you all covered in?"

"Gob." Ron mutters, his grin sliding off his face faster than I can turn a page of _Hogwarts, A History_.

"I want it cleaned up immediately, do you understand me young man?"

"Yes, mum."

Mrs. Weasley turns on her heel and stalks into the kitchen, and Ron turns to me.

"How am I supposed to clean all of this up? I don't know any cleaning spells!"

His face is so appalled I giggle. "You could just do it the Muggle way, _" _I tell him.

Now he is completely shocked. "The _Muggle way_? Why? That's what I have a wand for, isn't it? So I don't _have_ to do anything the Muggle way!"

"There's nothing wrong with a little hard work."

"C'mon, Hermione, you know a spell for this, don't you?" He's pleading with me now. It's so sad it's adorable. "Can't you just clean it up real quick, and then I won't have to do it!"

I giggle again, and tell him, "I still think you should just get a rag and wipe it all up. Or, just look in one of your Mum's household care books for a spell that is used for something like this."

He seems to ponder that for a moment. I know what his internal struggle is. He seems to be allergic, not only to cleaning, but to books as well. While that would be more difficult than my just telling him the spell, he knows I am too stubborn to let him off that easily. I'm still slightly annoyed about he and Ginny interrupting my reading earlier. Then a positively evil look appears on his face, surprising me.

"Or," he says slowly, a smile growing on his face. "I could _make _you tell me. _That_ would certainly be more fun." As he speaks, he bends down, gathers up a big hunk of Gob, and straightens back up.

Realizing what he was planning on doing, I begin to slowly back away from him. "You wouldn't."

He grins, brings his arm back, and chucks the Gob at me. I duck, just in time. The Gob hits the wall behind me with a sickening _splat_.

I twist around to catch sight of him before he tries to hit me with Gob again, but too late: He suddenly grabs me around the middle, which is both quite disgusting and amazing, seeing as he is completely covered in Gob. But as he twirls me around in the air, we are both cracking up, laughing harder than we have in ages, since before Dumbledore's death.

I don't know exactly what happens next; he may have slipped in a puddle of Gob, or just tripped over his too-large feet, but the next thing I know is we are both on the ground, covered head to toe in Gob, still laughing our heads off. He scoops some off of the floor and smears it on my arm, just as I smear what is on my other arm all on his face and in his hair.

But at that moment, Mrs. Weasley storms back into the room. Ron and I both scramble up as fast as we can, our laughter dying immediately after one look at Mrs. Weasley's expression.

"I thought I asked you to clean up this mess, not _make it worse!"_ She screeches. "_Now get to work!" _And she charges back out of the sitting room.

I turn to Ron, an apologetic expression on my Gob-covered face, just as he says, "Sorry. That was stupid."

I smile and correct him. "No, that was fun. I haven't had so much fun in a while. And the spell is _Scourgify."_

"I knew it was something like that."

"Of course."

I take one last look at him, completely covered in Gob, his hair sticking up in all the wrong directions, but grinning his paradisiacal grin all the same. Then I turn to the room at large, take my wand out of my pocket, and think, _Scourgify!_

Immediately, all the Gob vanishes, even that which was embedded in my hair and on my clothes. I turn back to Ron, and he is back to normal as well, except for his hair, which is completely messed up. Knowing I definitely look worse than he, I pull my long, bushy hair back into a ponytail with the rubber band I always keep on my wrist, just in case. Never know when you'll be in a Gob war and need to get your hair out of your face.

Ron leads the way into the kitchen, holding the door open for me.

Fred, George, Bill, and Fleur have arrived, and are drinking tea with the rest of the Order. They look up when we enter, Fred and George grinning evilly, Bill and Fleur smiling knowingly. I blush, for this makes it obvious that our Gob war did not go unnoticed.

"Where's Hagrid?" Ron asks no one in particular, apparently having noticed nothing.

"He's been held up somewhere, so we're going to start without him," Moody growls. "We can catch him up later. This meeting needs to be over and done with soon, the more wizards there are in a place the more likely a Dark wizard will find them!

"Now, Pius Thicknesse went over yesterday." There are a few gasps around the table, but I don't know what that means, so I do nothing. Moody must see a confused expression on my face, though, so he says, "Thicknesse is the head of the Department of Magical Transport, and has made it an imprisonable offense to Apparate into Potter's house, connect the fire to the Floo Network, and set up a Portkey anywhere near it. All done in the name of the boy's protection, but what he's really done is made it almost impossible for him to escape.

"Thankfully, Dung here has had an idea to help us get around this little snag. Never would've believed it of him, it's brilliant. But it may just be what we need to ensure Potter's safety. Dung came up with this idea, that the Dark Lord won't be _able_ to kill Potter, because he won't know who Potter is." He gazes around at us all, possibly pausing for effect, possibly contemplating the possibility that we are all Death Eaters waiting to report to Voldemort, I don't know. He continues, "There will be seven Harry Potters roaming the skies on Saturday night."

There's another pause as this statement sinks in. It's so simple, so brilliant... What other way could we trick Voldemort, he won't know which Harry to kill tomorrow night! But this thought brings on another.

"Harry's not going to like it." I say. I know my best friend, and anything that could even potentially put anyone else in danger because of him is something he is completely averse to.

"Potter doesn't have to like it," Moody snarls. "It's the only plan we've got, and it could possibly work. We will have seven Potters, and each will have a protector. Each Potter will fly on a broom to a safe house, which has been given every bit of security we can chuck at it." This is the part of the plan I don't like. As soon as Moody brings up the word "broom", my stomach clenches and I look fearfully to Ron, who is staring at me worriedly.

Moody doesn't notice, or if he does he doesn't care. "I am working on setting them up now, I've already got a dozen people willing... So, for the Potters, who is willing to take the Polyjuice and become a Potter decoy?"

"Me." Ron and I say at the same time. I have to overcome my fear of flying in order to help Harry, I can't let it hold me back, can I? We turn to each other, he with his brows furrowed. "But-"

"_Don't_, Ron. This is why we're here, isn't it? To help Harry?" He opens his mouth to retort, but I cut him off. "Ron, _don't_ tell me it's too dangerous, if you're there I am as well."

He snaps his mouth shut again, looking stony, but drops the matter. I turn back to Moody, who had watched our exchange with a slightly bemused expression, and say, "So that's two."

"And Fred and I will, too," George interjects. "That makes four."

Surprisingly, the next person to speak is Fleur. "I, as well, weel take ze potion. 'Arry saved my seester's life, I do not forget. I must repay 'im."

Bill looks worried, but does not say anything, possibly because he knows how strong Fleur is with a wand, and that she will be able to hold her own in a fight.

Moody seems satisfied. I wonder why he is okay with it so far, because we only have six Harrys, but my thoughts are cut short by his saying, "And Dung here is our seventh Potter."

"Wha'?" Mundungus exclaims, shocked. "I didn't do no volunteerin', why you signin' me up?"

"Because without you, we wouldn't have this _brilliant_ plan. Don't you want to take part in making it unfold?"

"No, I don'! I jus' though' I'd tell you and be on my way! An' either way, I'd sooner be a protector, You-Know-'Oo'll be tryin' to kill me!"

Moody just stares at Mundungus for a second, then growls in a deep, intimidating voice, "You'll be taking the potion, and you'll be helping us move Potter. If you chicken out, I will make you _wish_ the Dark Lord had killed you. Do you understand me?"

I can see the fear in Mundungus's eyes. He is obviously terrified of Moody, which isn't surprising. Even I am slightly scared of him sometimes, what with his scarred and battered body and his cold, cruel demeanor. Slowly, he nods, never moving his eyes away from Moody's, who turns to the rest of us.

"Alright, that's all the Potters we need. Protectors. I'll do it, watch over Dung. And Kingsley, you too. We'll need as many Aurors as we can get, the other side will be expecting us to have Potter with one, so he's the best protected." Kingsley nods his agreement.

"In that case, Remus and I will." Tonks pipes up. Lupin's brow furrows with worry, but he doesn't say anything. He, too, knows Tonks can take care of herself, and that she won't let him make her sit out of a fight.

"And me too," Bill cuts in, staring at Fleur.

Mr. Weasley is the last to speak. "I will do it as well, and I'm sure Hagrid will say the same. Now, which Harry will go with which protector? Dung with Alastor, obviously. But with whom should the real Harry go with? Do we _want_ him with an Auror, so he's the best protected, or do we want him with someone less qualified, for that very same reason?" He opens his mouth to continue, but before he can say anything more there is a soft knock on the kitchen door.

"Thank goodness, that must be Hagrid," Mrs. Weasley exclaims as she rises from the table to let Hagrid in. "I was beginning to worry..."

Hagrid manages to squeeze his head through the door and into the already crowded kitchen. "Sorry I'm late, go' held up... All righ', everyone?"

There is a chorus of greetings, and Moody explains the current situation to Hagrid quickly. He nods vigorously in agreement when Moody tells him about his being a protector, and says, "I thin' Harry oughtta come wi' me." There is a slight, uncomfortable pause as Mr. Weasley and Moody think about it, and Hagrid continues urgently. "I know I'm no good with me magic, bu' won' tha' mean they won' expec' him ter be wi' me? And it _was_ me tha' brough' 'im there in the firs' place, it's on'y righ' tha' I should be the one ter take him from there. An' we'll go on Sirius's ol' bike, 'cause brooms can' take me weigh'."

Mr. Weasley looks unconvinced, but Moody is nodding stiffly. "Right, so that's Potter settled."

"I'll go with Fleur," Bill declares. "Hargid, haven't you a herd of Thestrals? We'll take one of those, Fleur's not a fan of brooms." I immediately feel a bit better after this. What a perfect compromise. Thestrals are not nearly as bad to fly on as brooms, I actually quite liked the one I rode to the Ministry in my fifth year.

"Lupin and I can take Fred and George, keep them in line a bit too," Mr. Weasley says, and Lupin nods his agreement. We'll be fine on brooms, right boys?" Fred and George flash a double thumbs up, identical grins plastered on their faces.

"Hermione can go on another Thestral with Kingsley," Ron is looking at me as he says this, a look of fierce determination on his face. "And I'll go with Tonks on a broom."

I know why he wants me to go with Kingsley. Because he knows Kingsley is a better wizard than Tonks, and he thinks I will be safer with him. I would normally protest, saying that he was being ridiculous and that I can take care of myself, like Tonks and Fleur, but can't think of a way to do so without hurting Tonks's feelings.

"Alright that's everyone," Moody concludes. "Now, safehouses. Hagrid, you and Potter will go to Ted Tonks's place. Bill and Miss Delacour will go to Hestia Jones's house. Arthur, Dedalus Diggle's place. Lupin, your own home. Tonks, Ron's Aunt Muriel's house. And Kingsley, that leaves you and Miss Granger to your place." Everyone nods and murmurs their consent.

"Any questions?"

There are none.

Moody finishes, "Fine, then, I will see you all this time tomorrow evening. Try not to die until then."

And on that happy note, he rises from the table, stomps out the back door, and disappears into the night.

* * *

So there's chapter four! The Gob was weird, I know. I just wanted the two to have a bit of fun, I think they deserve it. Hope you liked it, next chapter should be the Seven Potters scene! Please leave a review, the feeling I get when I read my e-mail and find that readers have commented on my work is _amazing_. Thank you again, and until next time!


	5. Heterogeneous Doppelgangers

Hey team! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to upload, i've been completely swamped with homework. Couple that with complete writers' block, and you get a two week wait! I'm a terrible person.

* * *

Chapter Five- Heterogeneous Doppelgangers

Immediately after Moody leaves I stand and announce that I am going to bed. Ron gives me a quick grin and a hug goodnight. His smile quickly disappears when Fred and George swoop down upon me and squeeze me tightly at the same time, singing, "_Oooh, goodnight my love! My darling! And when you dream, dream of MEEEEE!"_

Both blushing furiously, Ron and I head upstairs. When we arrive at Ginny's bedroom, Ron flashes me another, more shy smile, then continues to clamber up the stairs. I watch him until he disappears, then open the door the the bedroom, where I find Ginny pacing impatiently, back and forth, back and forth. As soon as I open the door she turns to me and says, "Tell me everything, every little detail: How are they moving Harry?"

I sigh and tell her everything that had happened during the meeting. Ron can wait ten minutes. When I get to the part about having seven Harrys, she jumps off her bed, and exclaims rather loudly, "I need to be there, _I_ have to help him!"

"Ginny!" I whisper harshly. "Will you keep it down, your Mum will be up here in a second if she knows we're still up!"

"Oh... sorry."

I continue, and this time Ginny keeps her mouth shut until I finish, which is when she says, "So Harry's coming here tomorrow night?"

"Yes."

"And Mum and I are staying here? We aren't helping at all?"

I feel a pang of remorse and sympathy for Ginny. It will be horrible for her to have to sit here all alone for two hours, wondering where her family and the boy she loves are and if they are alright. But I know why she can't come, she is too young. Not that I would tell her that, she would just start blabbing about how I was only twelve when I went under the trapdoor with Harry and Ron, and how I was only fourteen when Harry and I had to save Ron from the supposedly dangerous Sirius Black. But Ginny doesn't leave me anytime to respond. Apparently reading the look on my face, she climbs into bed, wearing a stony expression.

The next morning, I wake up before Ginny, which I am glad about because Ginny takes _years_ in the bathroom. So I shower and change into jeans and a pink sweater and head downstairs to the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley is already cooking breakfast, and she smiles at me warmly and says, "Good morning, dear, could you please help me set the table for breakfast? It's almost ready and everyone will be up soon."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley."

She continues to bustle around the kitchen, pulling rolls out of the oven and putting a pack of bacon in the fry pan. As she is cracking eggs to scramble, she says casually, "So Ron seems to have decided you three will be leaving Hogwarts this year. Is this true?"

I am so surprised it takes me a second to find the ability to speak again. "Well, yes, we have decided that is the..." I falter under the look she gives me.

"But how can you, of all people, want to abandon your education in your final year of studies?" She exclaims. "Surely you know that this is your most important year, what with the N.E.W.T.s!"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, I know how important this year is. But I also know that what Harry, Ron, and I have to do is even more important than that. We have a job to do."

"But surely you can tell me what that is?" Mrs. Weasley is almost pleading with me. "Surely it is not so top-secret that only the three of you can know what it is!"

"I'm sorry, but it _is_ that secret." I really am sorry. The thought of having a mother figure in whom I could confide everything sounds better than almost anything in the world.

Mrs. Weasley purses her lips, brow furrowed, but drops the matter. I know, however, that she will attack us again at the soonest moment.

Soon after that, the boys and Ginny all drag themselves out of bed and into the kitchen. They gradually come alive at the smell of bacon and cooking eggs, and soon we are all crowded around the small kitchen table. Ron sits next to me, stuffing his face with as much food as he can fit into his mouth. I lean slightly away from him, to avoid being sprayed with bits of egg while he tries to talk and swallow at the same time. I swear, he is so gross sometimes.

After breakfast, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny have decided they want to play Quidditch again, so I grab _Hogwarts, A History _and head out with them to the apple orchard. I sit under a tree, leaning against its trunk so I can read my book.

After a while, Ron joins me, with the other three still throwing the old soccer ball abound. He lays on his stomach in the grass, resting his head on his arms right beside me. I am overcome with the absurd desire to stroke his hair, but resist.

"Hey," he says quietly to me. "How you feeling?"

I think about that one for a minute. How the heck _am_ I feeling? "I'm fine, just scared for tonight. And _speaking _of tonight-"

"Look, Hermione, I know you don't like that I made you go with Kingsley, 'cause I know you think it's cause I don't think you can fight and you need extra protection and Tonks isn't as good as Kingsley. I get it, okay? It would just make me feel better, and not have to worry about you the whole time if I know that someone as good as Kingsley is there, looking out for you." Ron says this all rather fast.

I don't know what to say. So I just respond with, "Oh... okay...". We lapse into a comfortable silence, with him taking a nap and me reading my favorite book in the world. After a while, when I am sure Ron has finally fallen asleep, I gently lift my hand from my book and stroke his hair once. He grunts and almost seems to smile in his sleep, but doesn't wake up. I do it again. I like it, it feels right. So I continue, getting down a slow rhythm.

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Ron wakes up suddenly, and I snatch my hand away from his head as fast as I can. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice anything. We head inside after that, where we find everyone is already assembled.

"Ah, good, Weasley, Miss Granger," Moody says. "We were just about to come looking for you two. Should've known you were together." I feel my cheeks turn red. Noticing nothing, Moody continues. "As I was saying, we will be leaving in ten minutes. We will take a Portkey to just outside of Lily's protection, and then we will walk through the charm and go from there. Any questions?"

No one has one, so Moody finishes with, "Alright, Hagrid will be meeting us there with the thestrals, so we won't have to worry about bringing them. Say your goodbyes, but if the plan works we'll be back in under two hours.

I turn immediately to Ginny and say, "I'll tell you everything that happens to us as soon as we get back, okay?"

She just nods her agreement, too worried to do anything more. Ron puts his arm around me, and I am comforted by his warmth and presence.

Finally, Moody says, "The Portkey's ready to go, everyone touch a finger to it, and let's go."

* * *

**(I'm skipping the entire Dursley's house bit here, because I don't have much to change with it. I think you all know what happens. I start now with them outside the Dursley's, getting ready to go.)**

We all step outside the Dursley's home, and I go immediately to the side of one of the thestrals. It gently nudges my shoulder when I reach it, and I rub its neck in return.

"Hello, Mr. Thestral, lovely night for a fly isn't it?" I murmur to it. It whinnies softly and tosses its head. Hmm, can thestrals understand English? I will need to research that.

"Alright already, everyone get situated, we haven't got all day!" Moody shouts at us all.

Ron, who had followed right behind me to the thestral, gives me a boost onto it. He helps me to secure my legs just behind the shoulder muscles, and before Kingsley comes to join us, he takes both of my hands in one of his, resting the other on the neck of the thestral. It is an odd action at first, what with him looking like Harry, for him to treat me with even this small intimacy, but I tell myself to remember that it _is_ Ron, not Harry. But when I look in his eyes, I see only Ron, looking at me with the expression I see on his own face whenever he looks at me when I am myself. It calms my nerves and fear.

"Hermione..." He hestitates. He seems to overcome some small internal struggle, and continues. "Be... be careful, okay? Stay safe, just get to Kingsley's fast, don't try to help anyone, 'cause I _know_ you'll want to. And don't get hurt. Do you promise me?" His eyes are pleading with me, but when I try to protest he cuts me off. "Hermione, we both know you'll want to, okay? That's just who you are. Do you promise me?"

I think about that for a bit. What he was asking me sounded simple, but what if something bad happened to _him_? What was I supposed to do then? But his eyes, though green and almond-shaped, are so pleading and worried I can't argue.

"Yes, Ron, I promise." I whisper to him. "But you have to promise me you won't get hurt, and that _you_ will get to your Aunt Muriel's house quickly. Please?"

"Of course I promise. Didn't I tell you I wouldn't leave you?"

I try to respond, but am interrupted by Kingsley.

"Time to go, I think," he informs us in his deep, reassuring voice. I nod encouragingly to Ron, whose lips twitch in a smile, and he releases my hands, and murmurs into the thestral's ear, "Keep her safe." The thestral whinnies again, just before Kingsley jumps onto its back just behind me, as I wind my hands in its hair.

"All right then," Moody is saying. "Everyone ready please; I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion's lost." The motorbike suddenly roars to life, and looking over at it, I see the real Harry, looking rather like a child, but with an expression of mingled fear, anticipation, and anxiety. Glancing back to Ron, I see he has his hands on either side of Tonks' waste, his face slightly guilty. But as if he feels my gaze, he turns to me and mouths, _Promise._ I respond with, _You too._

"Good luck everyone," Moody shouts, interrupting our silent conversation. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One! Two!"

I feel my pocket for my wand, just in case.

"THREE!"

I feel the thestral's muscles bunch, and then we are in the air, strong, leathery wings beating strongly on either side of me, temporarily obscuring my vision, and then revealing the world to me again. I wind my left hand tighter in the thestral's mane, and feel Kingsley's legs tighten around the thestral's middle.

And then, out of nowhere, more than thirty cloaked and hooded figures appear. I scream, yank my wand out of my pocket, just as the thestral puts on an incredible burst of speed, and we have broken out of the circle of Death Eaters.

Flashes of green and red and every color in between come from all sides. I twist around on the thestral, and see that we are being pursued by no less then five Death Eaters. Kingsley was already firing spell after spell at them, but we were moving so fast it was difficult for him to aim well. I point my wand at the Death Eater just to the right of us, and begin casting Stunner after Blasting Curse after Stinging Jinx, using every spell I can think of. I think I even scream, _"Eat Slugs!"_ a few times.

Everything is a blur, I have no idea what is happening, but all I know is I have to keep firing spells at the Death Eaters that are trying to kill us. I hear Kingsley shout, "_Icoatrum!"_

A jet of dark purple light erupts from the end of his wand and slams into one of the Death Eaters. He screams with pain and falls off his broom, plummeting to earth from miles up in the air. One of his fellows turns into a dive to catch him.

But another Death Eater takes advantage of my split second distraction and bellows, "_Effrigatis!"_ Another jet of light, this time pale pink, explodes from his wand and slams into my chest. I scream with pain as I feel my ribs break from the impact of the spell.

The pain is blinding, and I would have fallen off the thestral if Kingsley had not been sitting right behind me and caught me. Somehow I manage to keep hold of my wand. With tears streaming down my face, I crack my eyes open, point my wand directly at the Death Eater and think as hard as I can, _Confringo!_

The Death Eater is blown off his broom from the curse, and flys thirty yards away before he finally begins to fall.

Breathing is agony, and moving at all is almost out of the question. Every slight shift makes my chest sear with pain, but move I must. I promised Ron. It is this thought alone that makes me continue to fight the two remaining Death Eaters.

Then, my blood runs cold. At first I don't know why, but twisting painfully back front on the thestral, I see why.

Voldemort is flying just ahead and to the side of us, staring at me with absolute hatred etched on every bit of his face, which is even more terrible in real life than in even my dreams. His nose is reduced down to slits, and his eyes are a burning red. He points his wand directly at me, and opens his mouth to speak. I do nothing, for fear and pain have made me frozen and unresponsive.

"Harry Potter."

I hear his voice clearly, even over the wind rushing past my ears and the shouts of Kingsley as he tries to curse Voldemort and the remaining Death Eaters.

I see him mouth the words that will kill me.

And still I do nothing.

The burst of green light that I have expected erupts from his wand, and the last thing I think of is Ron, how I broke my promise to him, and how I will never get the chance to tell him how I feel about him.

But all of a sudden, the thestral twists its head around, mouth gaping open. The Killing Curse buries itself deep in its throat. I scream, but the thestral does not drop through the air like a rock, as I had expected. Instead, it rears up in midair and lashes its front legs out at Voldemort. I feel Kingsley grab it around the neck with his strong arms around me, keeping us both on the thestral.

Voldemort recoils from the thestral's assault, but before he can retaliate, another Death Eater appears, shouting, "My Lord! We have found him, the real one!"

Voldemort throws me one last murderous glance, and I am reminded absurdly of the old Muggle saying, _If looks could kill_. There is a loud crack, and Voldemort and the Death Eater disappear, leaving Kingsley and me to fight just the two left. Or rather, leaving Kingsley to fight the other two Death Eaters and me to struggle against the unconciousness that is threatening me and to stay on the thestral.

I hear Kingsley shout, "_Stupefy!"_ and hear a shout, and know he has managed to hit another one. Only one more is left chasing us.

But not for long, for the thestral suddenly rears up again and assaults this Death Eater just as it did Voldemort. Apparently having enough with us, the Death Eater vanishes as well, leaving us alone.

"Hermione," Kingsley says immediately, urgently. "Are you alright?"

_No_, I think. My chest is in so much pain I can't breathe, and unconsciousness is pressing down hard upon me. But I manage to lie, "Yes, I'm fine."

I don't think he is fooled though. "We'll be there in a minute, we're just about to pass through the enchantments."

And sure enough, immediately afterwards, to thestral begins a descent. Instead of being a spontaneous and jerky change as it had been last time I rode a thestral, however, it glides smoothly downward in a wide circle, not flapping. Kingsley keeps both hands around me the whole time, which I am glad about because I know that if he were to let go I would fall off immediately.

Just before we finally land, I am just barely managing to remain conscious. I hear a door bang open, a couple shouts, and finally the blackness overcomes me totally.

* * *

When I wake up, the first thing is notice is my ribs, which still sear with pain. I force my eyes open, and gaze around me.

I am in a living room, lying on a plush couch. Beside me is a tall, beautiful woman with dark skin. She is pouring some kind of potion into a glass. Hiding in the far doorway are two small children, a little girl around three and an even younger boy. They are peering around the doorframe at me, probably wondering who I am and why I am sleeping on their couch. Kingsley is in an armchair across from me, looking from me to the woman beside me, who turns to me at that moment. Her face is angular and careworn, and her expression changes from worry to relief as soon as she sees I am awake.

"Oh, you poor dear!" She cries. "Why do they have teenagers doing an adult's job? You are too _young_ to fight in a war! Is it this what the world has come to?"

I don't respond. Partly because of the incredible pain in my ribs, and partly because it was I who volunteered to do this, not someone volunteering _me_. But I don't have to, because the woman continues.

"I'm sorry, dear, you don't even know who I am, do you? I'm Karen Shacklebolt, Kingsley's wife. Is it just your ribs that hurt?"

I take a quick breath in and say, "Yes." Even that one word is incredibly painful. But I have to continue. Wincing, I breathe, "Where's... thestral...?"

"He's just outside, dear, he's fine," Mrs. Shacklebolt reassures me. "You just need to drink this, and then I can fix you up." She hands me a glass full of a transparent orange potion. I take a sip and almost gag. It's the most repulsive thing I have ever tasted, a cross between sour milk and beets. I force myself to drink it, though, gulping down the entire glass in one go. Almost immediately, the pain in my chest fades away to a dull burn, and I find that breathing and talking are easier.

"What happened?" I ask, desperate for information.

"You fainted just before we landed," Kingsley responds, still looking worried. "We brought you inside, and Karen tried to fix you up, but your ribs were broken by Dark magic, and she had to make a special potion. You've been out for about ten minutes."

"And your ribs won't be completely healed for another few hours. I'm going to wrap them for you, alright, dear?"

I nod, but I'm not done yet. "But what about what the thestral did? It just... ate the Killing Curse! Voldemort was trying to kill me and it just swallowed the Curse!"

Kingsley is shocked. "I've never heard of anything like this before." He thinks for a while, then an idea seems to strike him. "Maybe... maybe this has something to do with the fact that thestrals can only be seen by people who have seen death. Perhaps only after a thestral has been afflicted with something that can _cause_ death, can it be only seen by people who have seen death."

The logic is there. Kind of. But I can't stop thinking of how incredible the thestral was. If it hadn't been so magical, or quick reflexed, I would be dead right now. The thought scares me. _What would Ron do if I had died_? Gotten mad at me, for one thing. But then what? And where is Ron anyway? Is he okay?

My thoughts are interrupted by a constricting feeling around my chest, and I know that Karen has wrapped them tightly with a spell.

"The portkey leaves in a few minutes, Hermione, and here's your wand." She hands me the wand, and I put it in my pocket immediately.

"But _how_ did the Death Eaters know we were moving Harry tonight?" Kingsley wonders aloud, his face suddenly angry. "Someone must have betrayed us, someone's working for both sides!"

It is the only explanation I can think of that makes at least a little sense, but I don't want to think that one of my friends is working to kill my best friend. But I can think of that later.

"I'm need to see the thestral," I tell Karen, and she helps my to stand. I want to walk on my own, though, and tell her so. She doesn't think I should, I can see it in her eyes, but releases me and hovers behind me just in case.

As I limp out the back door, I pass by the two children. The little boy jumps at the sight of me and runs into his father's arms, but the little girl runs up to me and grabs my hand. "Hi!" She says brightly. "Feel better!"

I smile at her and say, "Thank you, sweetie. I'm Hermione, what's your name?"

"I'm Sarah!" Her smile is huge.

"That's a pretty name." She nods and runs to her mother, who picks her up, laughing.

"And this is Dominic," Kingsley lightly bumps his son up and down a few times, and Dominic giggles with joy.

I finally exit the house and end up in the Shacklebolt's backyard, a large, fenced-in, grassy area littered with mini broomsticks and toys. The thestral is standing erect a short distance away, and as soon as I emerge in the backyard it steps towards me. I rub its neck again and lean against it for support. It gently noses the side of my face, and I smile.

"Thank you for saving my life," I whisper to it. "Next time I see you, I'll bring you a filet mignon, and some steak sauce if you want. That's how Ron likes it, sauce with a side of steak. How's that sound?"

The thestral tosses its head. I take that as a yes.

"Hermione, the portkey's about to leave. It's here, if you want to take it," Karen holds a bent coat hanger to me. Immediately, I pat the thestral one last time, take the coat hangar.

Kingsley kisses his son, daughter, and wife in turn, sets his son on the ground, and joins me with the coat hanger, which has started to glow bright blue.

"Stay safe, tell Molly I say hello, and Hermione, make sure you get some rest so you can heal!" Karen tells us before the familiar jerk behind navel, and we are sucked into a whirlwind of light and sound.

* * *

Hope you all liked it! I made extra long cause I felt bad about taking so long to write. Please tell me what you think, the good and the bad!


	6. Rendezvous

Chapter Six- Rendezvous

I slam into the ground, hard. The force of it makes my healing ribs throb, and I lie there for a moment, catching my breath. Then Kingsley's strong arms are helping me to stand.

We have landed in the Weasley's front yard, surrounded by tall grasses and a small river. Harry is staring at us, obviously appeased that Kingsley and I have gotten home safely. I throw myself into his arms, relieved that the plan worked and my best friend is unharmed. I turn at the sound of shouts.

Kingsley and Lupin are standing ten feet apart, pointing their wands at each other. "The last words Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us?" Kingsley is saying.

"Harry is the best hope we have," Lupin responds calmly. "Trust him."

Kingsley turns his wand on Harry instead, but Lupin says quickly, "It's him, I've checked!"

"All right, all right!" Kingsley pockets his wand furiously. "But somebody betrayed us! They knew, they _knew_ it was tonight!"

"So it seems. But apparently they did not know there would be seven Harrys."

"Small comfort!" Kingsley snarls at Lupin. But his demeanor changes almost immediately when he asks, "Who else is back?"

"Only Harry, Hagrid, George, and me," Lupin says worriedly. Panic coarses through me, and I stifle a little moan behind my hand. Where's Ron? Wasn't he supposed to be the first back?

Kingsley is telling Lupin and Harry what happened to the pair of us. I'm not really listening, but I do notice that he doesn't tell them about my ribs, or how the thestral swallowed the Killing Curse. He probably doesn't want them to worry about me, but why wouldn't he tell them about the thestral?

"So that's why he left, to follow you!" Kingsley is saying now. "I couldn't understand why he'd vanished. But what made him change targets?"

Lupin's face hardens a bit, and he says, "Harry behaved a bit too kindly to Stan Shunpike."

Surprised, I say, "Stan?" But I thought he was in Azkaban?"

"Hermione, there's obviously been a mass breakout which the Ministry has hushed up," Kingsley says with a dry laugh. "Travers' hood fell off when I cursed him, he's supposed to be inside too. But what happened to you, Remus? Where's George?"

"He's lost an ear."

"Lost an-?" My voice is much higher than usual as fear wells up in my stomach.

"Snape's work."

_"Snape?"_ Harry shouts. "You didn't say!"

"He lost his hood during the chase," Lupin is obviously burdened with what happened to George, and speaks dully. "Sectumsempra was always a speciality of his. I wish I could say I'd paid back in kind, but it was all I could do to keep George on the broom after he was injured, he was losing so much blood."

We lapse into silence. Standing between Harry and Lupin, I stare up into the sky as hard as I can, wishing that Ron would just show up already, so I know he's safe. I wring my fingers around themselves furiously, incessantly. But the sky is not obscured by a broomstick and a flash of flaming red hair.

Behind me, I hear Hagrid shout, "Harry, give us a hand!" I feel Harry leave my side, and after a minute Hagrid has taken his place. We stand there for what feels like forever, waiting, watching.

I hear shouts, but what is the point of going to them? If they were for me, they would be Ron's voice. My ribs begin to throb again, but I ignore them too. Pain is just a message from your body to let your brain know something is wrong. But I _know_ something is wrong, many things are wrong, so why should I acknowledge the signal?

With every passing second I get more and more frightened that something happened to everyone. What if Voldemort had gotten to them, Tonks or Bill or even Fleur or _Ron_?

Eventually Harry and Ginny join us. Kingsley is pacing the yard, back and forth, back and forth, looking up at the sky at every turn.

Suddenly, a broom materializes just above us and streaks to the ground. I see a flash of red, and another of pink, and scream, "It's them!"

They land in a long skid, sending dirt and grass everywhere. Tonks dismounts the broom quickly and runs to Lupin, but Ron seems a little dazed from the fall. I sprint to him as fast as I can, again ignoring the pain in my ribs. I throw my arms around his neck and hug him close.

Seeming to overcome his dizziness, he says to me with a smile, "You're okay."

"I thought- I thought-" I was having difficulty speaking, I was so overcome with joy that he was finally home.

"Shh," Ron shushes me. "I'm okay, I'm fine."

"Ron was great," Tonks tells us warmly. "Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom..."

"You did?" I ask, leaning back slightly from Ron so I could see his face.

He is slightly miffed, and says, "Always the tone of surprise." I giggle, despite myself. "Are we the last back?"

"No," Ginny responds, looking worried again. "We're still waiting for Bill and Fleur and Mad-Eye and Mundungus. I'm going to tell Mum and Dad you're okay, Ron."

As she runs back, Lupin turns back to Tonks, looking almost angry.

"So what kept you? What happened?" He says accusingly.

"Bellatrix," Tonks responds, looking up into Lupin's eyes. "She wants me quite as much as Harry, Remus, she tried very hard to kill me. I just wish I'd got her. I owe Bellatrix. But we definitely injured Rodolphus, that was the one Ron got. And then..."

I tune her out and just stand there with Ron, my head resting on his chest, his arms around my waist and his chin resting on the top of my head. I breathe in his scent, rejoicing in every moment I have to just stand so close to him, under the facade that my only reason for doing so is comfort.

I am brought out of my reverie when Tonks turns to Harry and me and wants to know what happened to us. I relinquish my hold around Ron, but before I can do anything else he twists me around so we are both facing her and pulls me close again, resting his head on my own again as well. I blush faintly, and begin to tell my story.

"Kingsley and I were followed by five. Kingsley knocked one off his broom, and then another one got m- I mean, _I_ got another one," I had almost said that another Death Eater had hit me. But I can't say that with Ron around, he is always so protective, what would he do? Glancing up into his face, however, there is something in his eyes that says that he knows I edited a bit. Thankfully, he doesn't interrupt. "And then Voldemort appeared, but he vanished almost immediately." At this, Ron's arms tighten momentarily, slightly painfully, because of my mending ribs. I wince, and he loosens his hold again. But there is a rigidity about his arms that hadn't been there before. Slightly scared, I finish, saying, "And then Kingsley got another Death Eater and the last one disappeared. We got to Kingsley's place and Karen gave us the portkey, and now here we are."

Now Harry tells his story. There is a deadness about his voice at the start. "As soon as we were surrounded, Hedwig got hit, and I had to blow up her body." I feel a pang of remorse for Harry. I know how much he had loved her, how she had been there for him over the summers, when Ron and I hadn't. I know Ron is thinking along the same lines, because he holds me a bit tighter. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me that he is here with me. Harry continues to tell about how he fought all the Death Eaters, how he Disarmed Stan, and how he had managed to fight off Voldemort. I get the distinct impression that I am not the only one withholding information as he tells his story.

As soon as he is done, Kingsley says, "I'm going to have to get back to Downing Street, I should have been there an hour ago. Let me know when they're back." He gives me a smile, nods at everyone else, and heads away into the darkness, toward the gate. After a few seconds there is a _pop_ as he Disapparates.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley come racing out of their front door toward Ron, who immediately releases me so I won't be squished by their massive hugs.

While Mrs. Weasley is hugging Ron, Mr. Weasley turns to Lupin and Tonks. "Thank you for our sons."

"Don't be silly, Arthur," Tonks says at once. "How's George?"

"What's wrong with him?" Ron pipes up.

"He's- oh!"

Mrs. Weasley cuts off with a cry. I twist around, ignoring the discomfort from the movement, and see a new thestral has landed in the clearing, bearing Bill and Fleur on its back, miraculously unhurt. They each slide off the thestral, and Mrs. Weasley cries, "Bill! Thank God!"

Bill doesn't hug her back when she throws her arms around him. Rather, he looks directly at his father and says, "Mad-Eye's dead."

I stare at him in shock. Mad-Eye... dead? It can't be, how could he be gone? Wasn't he one who knew a hundred ways to block every single curse known to wizards? Bill is telling us how it happened, but I can't bear to listen. I turn back to Ron and bury my face in his chest. He holds me again, stroking my hair gently. We stand like this until Ron finally takes my hand and leads me inside with the others. I sit beside him on the sofa, accept the glass of firewhisky Bill hands to me. Normally I wouldn't dream of drinking, but I figure once in seventeen years couldn't hurt.

Bill raises his glass. "Mad-Eye."

There are a dozen responses of, "Mad-Eye", one coming a little late. I take a small sip of the firewhisky. It sears as it slides down my throat, but warms the coldness in my chest I hadn't even noticed I had been feeling.

* * *

Harry storms out of the house, furious about everyone ganging up on him and what he thought his wand had done. But how could that have happened, in everything I've ever read about wands, I have never come across anything relating to wands doing magic on their own, even while under Priori Incantatem. I turn to Ron.

"Should we go talk to him?"

He seems to think for a second, then sighs. "Yeah, we probably should. Otherwise he'll probably try to leave without us."

We step outside together, and looking around, I see Harry lying in the grass, curled up in a ball, his face contorted in pain. Ron runs to him and helps him to sit up, me lagging behind because it still hurts to run.

"Harry? Are you alright? You look awful!"

"Well," Harry's voice is shaky. "I probably look better than Ollivander... I just had a dream that Voldemort was torturing him, he wanted to know why mine had destroyed Malfoy's. He said Ollivander had lied to him about something..."

I glance at Ron as Harry tells us what he had seen. He looks appalled, confused. I, on the other hand, am completely frightened.

"But it was supposed to have stopped! Your scar... it wasn't supposed to do this anymore! You mustn't let that connection open up again! Dumbledore wanted you to close your mind!"

He doesn't respond, and I grip his arm to verify that he is listening.

"Harry, he's taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the world! Don't let him inside your head too!"

Harry gives me a forced smile. "Hermione, relax, it's fine. I'm going to start practicing Occlumency again, okay?" Without waiting for a response, he turns and stalks back into the house. Ron turns to me.

"He's so not practicing Occlumency tonight."

"That's obvious. He doesn't realize how exceptionally perceptive I am."

"Whatever," Ron smiles at me, then seems to remember something. His smile vanishes almost immediately. "Hermione, you weren't telling the truth when you told us what happened to you and Kingsley."

My breath catches. "What are you talking about? Of course I told you the truth, why would I lie?" I can feel my cheeks burning, as they always do when I lie. And the worst part is, Ron knows they do too. I can only hope it's too dark for him to see them.

"You didn't lie, but you left something out. And why did it hurt you when I hugged you?" Maybe Ron's the one that is exceptionally perceptive, Tonks and Harry didn't notice a thing wrong with my story.

"Ron..." I begin, but hesitate. Should I tell him? He knows I lied, but what will he do when he finds out? "Ron, I don't think it really matters, we're fine now-"

"Tell me, Hermione."

"_Stop_, you're being ridic-" I was getting heated up, did he really have to know every single aspect of my life? His reaction will be completely over the top, unnecessary. It's better for me and my own peace of mind that he doesn't find out.

"What's so bad that you can't tell me?" He stares at me with his clear blue eyes, bright even in the darkness of the night, reflecting the light of the stars and the moon.

"Fine!" I snap. The sudden raise in my voice's volume hurts my chest, but, again, I ignore it. He is so frustrating sometimes, why can't he just do what I ask for _once_? "Fine! After Kingsley hit the first Death Eater, another one hit me with a spell that broke my ribs. When we got to Kingsley's house, his wife gave me a potion to fix them, but it won't work completely for another hour. _That's_ why it hurt when you hugged me, because it felt like you were breaking my ribs over again, and it hurts to speak and walk and move at all. Are you _happy _now?"

I stand before him, breathing slightly heavily, and we stare at each other for a moment. He looks slightly confused and rather mad, but somewhere in his eyes there is concern.

"How could I be bloody _happy_ after you just told me a Death Eater almost got you?" His voice is strained and angry, eyes tight. "Who was it that hurt you? I swear, I'll kill them!"

He actually makes to turn, pulling out his wand so he could Apparate, but I grab his arm and force him to look at me.

"Don't you see, Ronald? This is _exactly_ why I didn't want to tell you! I knew you would react like this, it's completely unnecessary and ridiculous! I'm fine, so why bother wind yourself up like this?"

"Because it COULD have been so much worse!" Ron blusters. "What if that Death Eater had used Avada Kedavra, or Sectumsempra, or something that was worse than what DID happen! This is exactly why you shouldn't have come! Or I should've at least been your protector!"

I stare at him, exacerbated. Speaking in a low, dangerous voice, I say, "Ronald Weasley, you know perfectly well what I am about to say." And judging by the look on his face, he does. I continue, just for the satisfaction of having said it. "Nothing you could ever have said would have made me stay behind, while you go out to fight Voldemort." He doesn't flinch when I say Voldemort's name, surprisingly, but rather stares steadily into my eyes. He seems to have resigned himself to my use the word. "And you also know that I can take care of myself. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm _kind of_ good with a wand."

He just stands there, staring at me. He looks so tired, I feel bad for getting mad at him at such a sad time. All the anger seeps out of me and into the ground at my feet. I sigh.

"What are we fighting about, Ron? Why do we always feel the need to jump down each others' throats?"

He smiles at me. "I don't know."

I remember I hadn't told him something else. I take a deep breath and decide to tone down the intensity a bit. "While we were flying, one of the Death Eaters sent a Killing Curse at us. It would have hit... Kingsley, but the thestral, it _swallowed_ the curse! Have you ever heard of something like that?" I tried to make it sound like a random Death Eater had been aiming for Kingsley, instead of Voldemort aiming for _me_.

Ron is shocked. "You probably know more about Thestrals than I do. I've never heard..." He seems lost in thought. After a while, he snaps back to himself and smiles.

"Maybe I do overreact."

"You _definitely_ overreact. But I'm sorry I snapped." I smile back at him, forgetting all about the thestral.

"Let's hope nothing like this happens when we're looking for those Horcruxes," he says lightly. "Harry'd chuck us out immediately."

I laugh, then remember something. "I found something last month on Horcruxes."

Surprised, he says, "Really? I thought there were no books on Horcruxes in the library."

"Well, there aren't... but... I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Oh, come on, you _know_ I hate it when you do that!" I laugh at his expression.

"Yeah I do. But I don't want to have to tell the story twice. I want to tell you and Harry at the same time." He pouts, but resigns himself to my decision. Still giggling, I say, "Come on, let's go inside. Your mum's probably making something to eat."

That cheers him up at once. We walk slowly back inside. Ron hovers beside me, as though my ribs may suddenly flare up again, and he wants to catch me when I fall.

* * *

Well, hope you like it! I tried to stay as in character as I could, please tell me if I did a good job!

Hope you all are having a happy holiday! I celebrate Festivus myself.


	7. Preparations

Wow, thank you all SOOO much for the reviews! They have all been absolutely wonderful, they really make me feel amazing! Thanks for sticking with me through my mass periods of procrastination, writer's block, school work (which is never fun). Oh! And BAND! So much band, I haven't had time to do anything. Again, thank you for putting up with me. You all really are awesome!

* * *

Chapter Seven- Preparations

I'd like to say the next few days are easy, relaxed, fun. Away from any fears of the war, the hunt, painful thoughts of Mad-Eye. That would have been wonderful.

Alas, no such luck.

Though there is an obvious sadness about the Burrow that lasts a few days after Harry's arrival. Mrs. Weasley almost immediately puts us all to work for the wedding. Cleaning, setting, changing sheets, folding clean clothes, gathering dirty clothes. There is so much to do that I barely have time to think, which is saying something. The kindest explanation for this behavior is that Mrs. Weasley wants to distract us all from difficult thoughts of Mad-Eye and our recent journey. But after a couple days of this, I begin to suspect another motive.

All of the jobs she assigns Harry, Ron, and me seem to, suspiciously, keep us apart. I haven't been able to talk to Harry or Ron properly since that first night. It is getting frustrating, because how are we going to be able to do _anything _if she's too determined to just let us talk?

Ron confronts her about this on the second day since Harry's arrival. I am in the next room, washing the windows with the same spell I taught Ron. Their voices waft in through the open kitchen door.

"Mum," he says in an undertone. "why are we doing so much ridiculous rubbish? I need to talk to Harry and Hermione, we need to get ready, and we can't do that while you have us sitting here folding 'decorative' napkins!"

"Ronald Weasley, you agreed to help your brother prepare for his wedding," she says, flaring up at once, not bothering to keep her voice down. "And why do you need to talk to Harry and Hermione? It can wait, I'm sure. If the _job_ you three are trying to do is so important, Dumbledore would have told the entire Order."

"But, Mum-"

"And anyway, I think it is inappropriate for you to have Hermione upstairs in your bedroom alone. That is very immature of you, I thought I had taught you better."

Although slightly surprised, I immediately start to giggle, stuffing my hand in my mouth to stifle the sound. I hear Mrs. Weasley's footsteps begin and fade away as she steps outside. Ron still hasn't left the kitchen, and I can't resist tiptoeing through the door to see his expression.

He is staring at the open back door, his jaw dropped, his face a mingled look of shock and horror. I can't hold it in anymore; I break out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

He slowly turns to me, his ears turning a flaming shade of scarlet.

"Just- no- she-" He sputters. "That's-"

Still laughing, I back out of the room, leaving Ron to figure out his issues by his lonesome.

After returning to my window, I am struck with a sudden thought. What if we have to leave at some random time, without knowing it beforehand? Rather safe that sorry...

And with that, I begin to pack everything I think we could possibly need. Extra clothes for each of us, blankets, sweaters, sweatshirts. I raid Ron's closet numerous times, which seems to have a layer of dirty laundry on the floor that has not been touched since last summer. Smells like it too. I offer Mrs. Weasley that I do the laundry one day, and she gives me a rather surprised and relieved look.

I gather every bit of dirty clothes in the house, most of which were hiding in Ron's closet (although a surprising amount were under Harry's bed), sort it all into piles like I used to do at home, light colors, dark colors, underpants, jeans. Then I cast a charm to set them washing themselves.

I continue to gather spare tubes of toothpaste, combs, and everything else I can get my hands on. I completely empty my Extended beaded bag, holding it upside down in the room I share with Ginny while I was supposed to be gathering our sheets. It took a few minutes for everything I had in my bag to spill out on the floor, but soon I had a small mountain consisting of probably 90% books and the rest whatever else I had stuffed in there that last morning.

I stare at the mountain for a moment, contemplating it. _Do I really need this many books?_

Yes_._

_But will my bag fit all of Ron and Harry's stuff?_

It's got an Undetectable Extension Charm on it!

_Yes, but half of these books are about completely unnecessary topics!_

What if you get bored? You won't want to be reading the same books over and over again. _Hogwarts, A History, _anyone?

"Oh, shut up," I say aloud. Immediately I hear a loud guffaw from the staircase from the other side of the closed door: Fred or George, obviously thinking I talk to myself. Understandable because I just _did_, but that was one time!

I set to work organizing all of my junk into piles based on what each item is, clothes, books, necessities, by hand, then give it up as a bad job and use my wand to do it. When did I buy so many books? And shoes, I have too many shoes. Why did I bring shoes I wore in my third year? They don't even fit.

When I am finally done sorting and organizing, I rip the sheets off the beds, push the piles into the corners of the rooms, run downstairs, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn't notice my absence.

She did.

"Oh, there you are, Hermione. I was beginning to get worried. Did the sheets fight you? They've been known to do that." Her voice had a slight sarcasm that was even worse than Ron's when he is annoyed.

I am saved from responding by Ron and Harry bursting into the kitchen.

"Oh there you are, you two, I have something to tell you," Mrs. Weasley says. "The Delacours will be arriving this afternoon, and I want this house to be spotless."

Shocked, Ron turns to her. "It isn't already? We've been working for the past week on this place!"

"Hermione, could you dust the sitting room for me, dear?" Mrs. Weasley continues, ignoring him. "And Harry, if you would help Ginny set the table for dinner. Ron, clean your room." And she bustles out of the room.

Muttering savagely under his breath, Ron stomps back up the stairs, while Harry grabs a handful of cutlery from a drawer. I pull out my wand, step into the sitting room. Running my finger atop one of the bookshelves hanging, disheveled, on the wall by the door, I find a complete lack of dust of any kind. Someone, Mr. Weasley, probably, must have already dusted in here.

Gratified, I poke my head back through the door into the kitchen. No sign of Mrs. Weasley. With that, I tiptoe, quickly and quietly, to the stairs and up to Ginny's room. Stuffing all of my books back into the empty beaded bag, I sneak up all the way up the stairs to Ron's room.

I knock gently on the door, wait for an answer. There is a creak of bedsprings, and Ron's grumpy face appears in a crack between the door and wall. It brightens almost immediately when he sees me, probably having expected Mrs. Weasley to come and scold him for not cleaning his room.

"Oh, it's you, Hermione," he says. "Come on in." He opens the door and steps back to let me in.

Ron's room is remarkably unchanged from how it looked when we were younger, just as mine was before I left. Bright orange walls, posters of the Chudley Cannons covering almost every surface, a ragged, dull orange bedspread. It makes me feel like I am fourteen again, and am seeing his room for the first time. The only thing that changed from that time is the extra bed, crammed into the corner. A mass of clothes and rubbish is littered all over the floor, so I have to be exceptionally careful where I put my feet, or I may fall into it and never come out.

Ron collapses on his bed again, face first. He mumbles something, his voice muffled by the bedsheets. I pry my eyes away from the immense mess on the floor and say to the back of his head, "Your mum's right, Ron. How do you live in this place?"

He rolls over on the bed, saying, "Most of it's Harry's!"

"Oh, I'm sure it is," I say sarcastically. "Since when has Harry worn a Chudley Cannons T-Shirt and a single size 12 shoe?" I ask him, holding up those very items. I have no idea where the other shoe is.

"Okay, well, that stuff is mine. But it's not my fault! I can't clean up in here while we're supposed to be cleaning out the rest of the house."

"Really? I was under the impression that that is what you are supposed to be doing now." I cock my head slightly and give him a slightly berating look.

Closing his eyes and stuffing a pillow over his face, Ron mumbles, "No... maybe later..."

I can't help but smile. Pulling out my wand, I use it to move the junk from the cleanest corner to the other side of the room, then sit down there, legs crossed beneath me. Ron, hearing what I am doing, looks up hopefully, as if he thinks I am pulling a miracle and cleaning his room for him. No such luck.

"Well, Ron, if you're not going to clean your room, maybe you can help me out with sorting some books," I say, holding my bag upside down again, so all of the books I stuffed in it topple out and onto the floor.

"Sort out books?" Ron asks, confused. "Why do you have to sort out books?"

"Seeing as we're going to be traveling for a while with Harry to look for the Horcruxes, I'm going to want to bring some books to read, right? Just in case we need to research things we see while we're out there."

Staring at me in awe, he says, "You're amazing, you are. Have you been packing since we got here?"

"Of course, and I'm still not done yet. Did you know how much rubbish you have in your closet? It's taken me _days_ to clear that thing out."

"Oh, so that's where all my stuff went. I kept wondering why I could see the floor sometimes..."

I settle myself down and pick up the first book (_Which Wand is Which? A Compendium of Woods and Their Magical Properties and Uses in Wand-Making_) and stare at it for a moment, contemplating it. I've read it a few times, and found it interesting, but to what use could it prove in a search for Horcruxes? I set it off to the side in a pile I mentally label _Not To Take_ and reach for the next book.

"Hey, Hermione..."

"Mmm?" I say absently, staring at the cover of _Hocus Pocus! and Other Muggle Terms Defined._

"So we're going to be gone for a while traveling, right? Well Dad and I had this thought. What'll happen when we don't turn up at Hogwarts this year?"

Finally looking up into his own face poring into mine, I say thoughtfully, "That's right, what _will _happen? I wonder what the teachers will do, what they'll think?"

"Well, again, Dad and I had this thought. They're bound to check the family, aren't they? And if I'm not here, they'll know I've gone with Harry. So we... you know what, I think I'll show you first."

"I beg your pardon?"

Ron doesn't answer me, but instead stands and offers me his hand, pulls me up from the ground. I drop _Hocus Pocus!_ and allow him to lead me to the landing outside of him room, curious.

Ron pulls his wand out of his pocket and points it at the low ceiling, which the top of his head is almost touching. After glancing down the stairs, on the lookout for his mother, no doubt, he whispers "_Descendo_", and a hatch opens right beside his head, and a ladder slides gently down it to rest at his feet. A horrible, half-sucking, half-moaning sound comes out of the hole, along with an unbearable smell that makes me cover my face with both hands. Ron climbs the ladder first, then gestures for me to join him.

I climb the ladder with one hand, keeping the other pressed firmly against my nose. As my head and shoulders enter the attic, I see Ron's ghoul, only it was completely different from all that I have ever read about them. It seems to be around Ron's shape and size, and instead of being slimy and bald like a normal ghoul, it has bright, ostentatious orange hair and is covered from head to toe in gross purple blisters. It is across the room from us, banging on pipes and the walls, creating a surprisingly loud racket. I am grateful it hasn't seen us, because ghouls are known to have flaring tempers.

After staring at the ghoul for a moment, I turn to Ron with a whisper. "Why is your ghoul wearing your pajamas?" My voice comes out slightly nasally, because I still haven't removed my hand from my nose.

Looking slightly sick from the stink, he says, "He's supposed to be me. See it?"

Glancing back at the ghoul, I can kind of see what Ron is talking about. They're not twins, but a person that didn't know Ron well at all would think he was another Weasley. Except for the weird blisters and pustules.

"Not really. Since when do you have boils covering every inch of your body?"

"I'll tell you in my room. I think I'm gonna chuck." He gestures for me to climb back down the ladder first, then quickly follows.

Back in Ron's room, I settle myself back into my corner, surrounded by my many books, look expectantly at Ron to explain to me what is going on. He closes the hatch to the attic and his bedroom door firmly, then settles himself on his bed to talk to me.

"When we're gone, the Death Eaters are going to come knocking, to see where we are. And if I'm not here, they'll know I'm with Harry. But if the ghoul is me, then they won't have any reason to believe that I'm with Harry! And that'll keep my family safe."

I can see where he is going with this, but it still doesn't explain something. "That makes sense, but you still haven't answered my question. If the ghoul is you, why is it covered with pustules?"

"We're going to put out the story that I caught spattergroit this summer. That'll explain why I'm not at school, too. Good, eh?"

I have to admit, the plan is brilliant. Spattergroit is seriously dangerous and contagious, so no one from the Ministry will want to go near to the ghoul to verify that it really is Ron. And the bacterium in the blisters is a rapidly growing one, quickly taking over every organ in the body, starting with the skin. Once it spreads to each organ, it completely shuts down its functions, like when it spreads to the uvula, one can't talk anymore.

I tell Ron all of this, and he just stares at me for a second before saying, "Oh, yeah, exactly. That's exactly what happens..."

I give him a smile to let him know that he hasn't fooled me at all, then turn back to the next book. I hear occasional footsteps on the stairs outside Ron's room, but no one interrupts us. We are silent for a while, until Ron has another train of thought.

"What did you find out about the Horcruxes? That you didn't tell me the day Harry got here?"

Glancing up again from my book, I say reluctantly, "Oh, that. Let's just wait-"

But I never get to tell Ron to wait, for at that moment, his bedroom door creaks slowly open and Mrs. Weasley's head pokes into the room. I freeze, remembering that I am supposed to be dusting the sitting room, then hide behind the massive pile of books.

Mrs. Weasley turns to look in my direction, perhaps seeing my movement out of the corner of her eye. Apparently disregarding this as one of the posters on the wall doing some fancy spin move in the air, she turns back to Ron, who had jumped up from the bed at the sound of the door opening.

"Ron, have you done anything to this room? Only your closet looks any better than it did two hours ago." She seems slightly surprised that it appears that he has actually cleaned up a bit. "Dinner's ready. Have you seen Hermione anywhere? She wasn't in the sitting room when I went looking for her."

Thankfully, Ron does not betray himself by glancing in my direction. Instead, he says smoothly, "No, I haven't seen her. Have you checked with Ginny?"

Even better, Mrs. Weasley completely believes him. "No, I suppose that is probably where she is. Alright, come on down for dinner." And she exits the room again.

I straighten back up as soon as I hear the door close, give Ron a quick thumbs up. He grins, then steps across the room to help me again.

* * *

Wow. Finally done. That took a while. Again, thank you so much for reading this story, it really means a lot to me!

As always, please tell me what you think (or just yell at me for procrastinating). Good and bad, it really helps me become a better writer. And if anyone has any ideas about a scene or idea they would like me to write, a Ron/Hermione moment, Hermione/Harry friendship moments, anything of that nature, just let me know! I'm always open to new things!


	8. The Wedding

I'm going to start every chapter with an apology, I can feel it. Excuse: I've had a lot going on recently, AP exams (despite them being, like, a month ago), Drum Major auditions, camps, other junk. But I got Drum Major! Thank you again for reading this story. :D Also, I am getting terribly bored with the events at the Burrow, so I'm going to skip right to the Wedding. I think I'm right in assuming you all have read the book/seen the movie? Sorry if this upsets anyone! Maybe I'll come back to it later.

* * *

Chapter Eight- The Wedding

At one o'clock on the day after Harry's birthday, Ginny and I begin the infuriatingly long process of getting ready for the wedding. Using Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, I somehow manage to tame my mane of bushy brown hair into something Ginny deems "_So gorgeous_!". Her own hair looked immaculate when she woke up this morning, so I can hardly understand why she takes the better part of an hour playing with it, trying to decide how exactly to style it.

We zip each other up into our dresses (Ginny exclaiming with delight at both of our gowns), slip on our shoes, and stand side-by-side to see the effect in the mirror. With tamed hair and makeup on, I can scarcely recognize myself. Ginny in her gold dress looks absolutely stunning, and I tell her as much.

She grins her thanks and says, "Ron is going to _adore_ you in that dress, Hermione."

I glance at her, surprised. "Ginny," I say quietly, dropping my eyes to the beaded bag with which my fingers are fiddling. "I told you, he doesn't think of me that way..."

"And I told _you_, he definitely does." Ginny slips the beaded bag from my hand and sets it gently on her bed. "Don't you think I know my brother?"

"Well, I guess, but don't you think he would have said something before now?" I plead, wishing desperately that she is right.

She just flashes me a knowing smile and turns back to the mirror to straighten her necklace. I sigh, suddenly jealous that Harry is so much more open with his emotions than Ron in this way.

The thought of Harry reminds me of the quest he, Ron, and I are about to partake on. Remembering my decision that we could have to leave at any moment, I stand, take my bag from the bed, and tell Ginny I'll see her later. Glancing around to verify Mrs. Weasley won't see me heading up to Ron's room, I steal up the stairs as quickly as my heels will allow me, which is not very fast. And I've never quite noticed how very loud heels can be on hard floors, clacking theatrically with every step I take.

In Ron's room, I take a moment to marvel at how miraculously clean it is. Granted, a majority of the cleaning was done by myself, but that doesn't make it any less anomalous. I scour the room for any of Ron's belongings I could have missed, and come across nothing. Then I grab Harry's rucksack, which he left open and completely disorganized, all of his belongings strewn across his bed. I fold all of the clothes quickly with my wand and load it all into his sack, checking that the Invisibility Cloak is included in the pile.

I take one last glance around the room, freezing when I see a picture I have never noticed on Ron's bedside counter. It is a picture of the two of us from the summer before our fifth year. We are standing arm-in-arm, laughing at the camera and each other's goofy expressions. I pick it up and smile at our younger selves for a moment. Life was so much simpler then, I feel myself longing for it to be like that again. I set it back where I found it and depart from the room. On the landing, I open the bag again and check off the things I have wondered we might need on a mental list.

_Tent... Yes._

_Books... Yes._

_First-Aid kit... Have it._

_Clothes... Of course._

_Books... Already counted that._

_Polyjuice Potion... Yes, I stole that from Mad-Eye's stash._

_Books... I don't even remember packing this many books!_

Satisfied I have everything, I weigh the bag in my hand. It's still surprisingly light, despite how many things I have stuffed in it. I suppose that is just the nature of the Charm. Heading back downstairs, I pass by Percy's old bedroom, where Fleur has been staying. The door is ajar and I hear voices. Curious, I step inside.

Fleur herself is standing there in the most beautiful dress I have ever seen, with layers of white fabric with the detail of what appears to be a Phoenix in black lace over it. Ripping my eyes away from the exquisite dress, my gaze falls upon the other two women in the room. Ginny is here, looking annoyed, and upon further notice I can tell why.

The other witch is immensely old, wrinkled, and apparently bad-tempered. She is wearing a deep purple gown and an expression as though she had just been horribly insulted.

"...keep your head up, don't _slouch_, you must catch the light _exactly_ right, or the entire effect is ruined, and I think..." She shouts at Fleur, who seems to be taking the criticisms well. I glance wildly at Ginny with a question in my eyes, but she just grimaces.

"...and you must be sure to return this immediately after the wedding, don't you _know_ how immensely valuable it must be now?" She seems to be rather enjoying herself, criticizing and reprimanding Fleur, who still somehow seems at ease. "Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?" she says suddenly, and I jump with surprise, almost dropping the beaded bag.

"Stand up _straight,_ don't slouch! Didn't you hear me telling this one?" She barks, gesturing wildly at Fleur, who smiles at me in a _just go with it_ sort of way. Immediately I straighten my back, clacking my heels together as though I am in the army, coming to attention. The woman, who I suppose can only by Ron's Auntie Muriel, looks me up and down with a critical eye. I feel immensely uncomfortable, and my hand comes up to my mouth instinctively before I can stop it. Of course, that only brings Muriel's attention to my hands.

"Oh, a _nail_ biter as well? That's a nasty habit, I would never have allowed it in my household." Finishing her examination, she makes a final comment. "Skinny ankles, and that dress is far too low cut, do you intend to slip out of it during the reception?"

My jaw drops in shock at this woman's rudeness and audacity. I look wildly around at Ginny and Fleur, begging for an explanation, but before I can receive one Muriel cries out again.

"Don't stand there with your mouth open, gaping like a _fish_, girl! That is tremendously unattractive, what would you have to say for yourself if someone saw you like that? And _stand up straight!_" With that, she snatches her cane from its spot leaning against the wall and leaves the room agonizingly slowly, one step at a time. As soon as she is clear of the doorway, I shut the wooden door and turn to Fleur and Ginny for an explanation.

Ginny immediately starts giggling, which changes to outright laughter within seconds. After trying to stop herself for a moment, she just waves her hand in Fleur's direction, asking Fleur to explain.

"Ginny's Auntie Muriel was just giving me 'er lovely tiara, for our wedding," Fleur says with the air of clutching at straws. "I suppose she wishes for us all to took our best, for tonight, and this is why she spoke with you so forwardly."

Ginny, who has finally recovered from her laughing fit, lets out another short shout of laughter. "Muriel, wanting _us_ all to look our best?" She says to Fleur. "She's like that all the time, her favorite hobby is finding new flaws in everyone she meets and and saying how best she would fix them."

"But she didn't even _introduce_ herself to me before practicing her hobby!" I exclaim, having recovered from my initial shock. "I've never met her in my life!"

"That's just Muriel's charm," Ginny says in a final sort of way. Fleur has turned back to the mirror, straightening her hair and dress nervously. Downstairs, I can hear Muriel shouting at someone else. As soon as it dies away, I give a Fleur and Ginny a hug each, wish the former luck, and excuse myself from the room, as it is almost four o'clock, the time the ceremony will begin.

Hurrying downstairs and outside to the recently set up tent, I search for Ron and Harry. This is, unsurprisingly, more difficult than usual due to the hundreds of ginger heads that make up the crowd.

Finally, I find Ron and Harry at the entrance of the marquee, the latter disguised as a rather chubby Muggle boy from the town. Ron sees me first, blinking rather rapidly and opening and closing his mouth a few times before he gets out, "Wow, you look great!"

"Always the tone of surprise," I say, laughing. "Your Auntie Muriel doesn't seem to agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur her tiara. She said, 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then commented on my bad posture and skinny ankles." Absentmindedly, I cross one foot over the other in an attempt to hide my ankles, though it probably just looked like I had to go relieve myself.

"Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," Ron assures me, noticing this.

"Talking about Muriel?" Comes a voice, and, turning, I see it belongs to George, who has just materialized from the marquee with Fred. "Yeah, she's just told me my ears are lopsided. Old bat. I wish old Uncle Bilius was still with us, though; he was a right laugh at weddings."

"Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hour hours later?"

"Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end," conceded George, waving a dismissive hand.

"But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party," Fred says, laughing at his memory. "He used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky, the run onto the dance floor, hoist up his robes, and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his-"

"Yes, he sounds a real charmer," I say, permitting myself a small giggle while Harry cracks up beside me.

"Never married, for some reason," says Ron.

"You amaze me," I say in mock admiration, laughing for real now.

A voice from behind me disrupts our laughter. "You look vunderful."

I jump in surprise, then turn to see Viktor Krum.

"Victor!" I squeal, accidentally dropping my beaded bag. It crashes to the ground, booming and clanking. Blushing, I scramble to pick it up again. Hiding my face and racking my brain for something to say, I bluster, "I didn't know you were - goodness - it's lovely to see - how are you?" I finish lamely. Determinedly not looking at Ron, my gaze shifts from Viktor's brown eyes, to my beaded bag, back again.

"How come you're here?" Ron demands, much too loudly, so I wince slightly.

"Fleur invited me," is the answer, in a slightly surprised tone.

Harry shakes Viktor's hand (I hope desperately that this act of friendship has an effect on Ron), offers to show him to his seat. They depart, leaving me with Ron, ears flaming red, and Fred and George, who are grinning at each other knowingly. I ignore them, turn to Ron.

"Could you at least _try_ to be nice to him? Please?"

He glances at me, and I suppose something in my face softens him, because his expression goes from stony to light-hearted in a blink. He doesn't answer, just gives me a swift smile.

"Let's go sit down, it's almost time," George cuts in, glancing at his watch.

The four of us hurry off to find our own seats. As we are passing Harry, Fred says to him, "Time to sit down, or we're going to get run over by the bride."

Ron guffaws as we take our seats in the second row, just behind Fred and George. I still can't get used to the missing ear on the side of George's head. I hear Ron (sitting between Harry and me) mumble something to Harry, and a grunt in response.

Then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stroll up the aisle, looking happier than I've ever seen either of them, laughing and waving at their relatives and friends. As soon as they reach the front of the marquee, Bill and Charlie, Bill's best man, stand. They are wearing dress robes, large white roses in their buttonholes. Fred wolf-whistles from in front of me, and the crowd of veela cousins burst out in giggles (to which Fred looks immensely pleased). Bill can't seem to stop smiling, and when his eyes light up at the sight of something at the end of the marquee, I swivel around in my seat, sighing, "Ooooh!"

I wasn't the only person to do so, as the entire crowd seems to sigh as one as Monsieur Delacour comes walking up the aisle, Fleur on his arm. Fleur's eyes were locked on Bill's, and she too could not seem to help but smile. Behind Fleur, gliding down the aisle, came Ginny and Gabrielle, in the golden bridesmaid dresses I had helped Ginny with just that afternoon. I see Harry sigh as Ginny passes us, and feel Ron gently take my hands in both of his.

When the procession reaches the front of the marquee, Fleur takes Bill's hand, whose smile is the largest I've ever seen.

* * *

"...then I declare you bonded for life."

Through my watering eyes, I see the tufty-haired wizard wave his wand high over Bill and Fleur's heads. A shower of silver stars falls upon them, spiraling around their kissing figures. Fred and George lead a round of applause, and the golden balloons overhead burst: Birds of paradise and tiny golden bells fly and float out of them.

"Ladies and gentlemen! If you would please stand!"

We all do so. I hear Muriel grumbling loudly from somewhere behind me, and find I don't care all too much. The seats rise gracefully into the air, and the canvas walls of the marquee vanish, all that remains is a canopy supported by golden poles. A gleaming dance floor is formed from a pool of molten gold spreading from the center of the tent, and small, white-clothed tables appear, with the floating chairs grouped around them.

As waiters begin popping up all around us laden with trays of tarts and cakes and drinks, Ron says, "Smooth!" approvingly, eyeing the firewhiskey. I squeeze his hand as I stand on my tiptoes to see the place where Bill and Fleur had vanished, exclaiming, "We should go and congratulate them!"

"We'll have time later," Ron shrugs, shaking his head. Relinquishing my hand, he snatches three butterbeers from a waiter who has just popped up beside us and hands one to Harry and me. "Hermione, cop hold, let's grab a table... Not there! Nowhere near Muriel -"

Like I want to sit near _her_ again.

Grabbing my hand again, Ron leads the way across the still-empty dance floor. We stop at the emptiest table at the other end of the marquee; The only occupied chair is taken by Luna Lovegood.

"All right if we join you?" Ron asks of her, apparently still not able to get over her rather bright choice of clothes.

Luna looks up and smiles brightly, genuinely pleased. "Oh yes," she says, and we all sit. "Daddy's just gone to give Bill and Fleur our present."

"What is it, a lifetime's supply of Gurdyroots?" Ron asks innocently. I aim a kick at him under the table, but judging by Harry's jerk and suddenly watering eyes, I caught him instead.

Luna doesn't seem to notice this and says dreamily, "Oh no, it's a Jantacular Hobberknocker, to keep away the Snickersees, they like to sneak up on newlyweds and steal their wedding presents. Isn't that horrible? Dad says it happened to him and mum, which is why he looked so hard to find a good protection from them." Ron is left gaping.

When the band begins to play, everyone turns to see Bill and Fleur take the dance floor first. After a while, Mr. Weasley leads Madame Delacour onto the floor, and Mr. Delacour takes Mrs. Weasley's hand. I watch them happily for a few moments, lost in their happiness. Luna, who has been swaying in time with the music, decides, "I like this song," and stands up, glides onto the dance floor. She revolves slowly on the spot, her arms slightly aloft, eyes closed.

"She's great, isn't she?" Ron says, staring admiringly at Luna, then turning to me. "Always good value."

But his smile vanishes almost immediately. There is only one thing at this wedding that can make Ron's smile disappear like that, and sure enough when I turn around to see what it is, Viktor is walking along the end of the dance floor towards us. I feel my face burn with blush as I catch sight of a crowd of Veela cousins staring at him and giggling, a few of them throwing jealous glances at me.

Viktor is scowling (more than usual) and says, "Who is that man in the yellow?"

"That's Xenophilius Lovegood, he's the father of a friend of ours," Ron says bluntly. Everything in his tone says, _Do not piss me off or I will hex you. _"Come and dance," he says unexpectedly to me, taking my hand again.

Surprised, but gratified, I allow him to lead me into the middle of the dance floor, I assume because it is as far from Krum as we can get from any direction.

When we stop, he turns to the couples around us, who all seem to know the choreography to some elaborate quickstep. I have no idea how to do whatever it is they are doing, but Ron seems to have other plans. Putting his hand on my waist, he uses his other to put mine around his neck. We begin to slowly revolve on the spot, not exactly dancing, but much preferable to what the others are doing.

"This isn't exactly the song for a slow dance," I inform Ron, for the music is, indeed, a fast waltz. Grinning, Ron releases my waist and starts some absurd jig, hands on his waist, ducking down to the left, right, center. His face is scrunched up in some peculiar expression, and I can't help but burst out in laughter. I immediately join in on his dance, and soon we are both quacking like ducks, laughing our heads off.

When the song ends I clap along with the others, wishing it had gone on for another ten minutes. The band starts up another song, this one much slower. Ron puts his hands on my waist again and I don't need an invitation to put mine around his neck.

We revolve on the spot, like Luna did earlier, talking about random things that pop up, just like we always have when it is just the two of us. Ron stares into my eyes the whole time, an expression I have never seen in his eyes. Slightly embarrassed, I alternate between staring back at him and determinedly avoiding his gaze. Suddenly, I have to get something off my chest.

"Ron, you do know there's nothing going on between Viktor and me, right?"

His expression turns surprised. "Well, yeah," he says slowly, unsure of his footing.

"Then why do you act like that when he's around?" I inquire, searching Ron's gaze for an answer.

"I think it's just habit by now," he says quietly. When I continue to stare at him, he gushes, "I just don't think he deserves you, you're too smart for him, too kind, too b-"

He cuts himself off, ears furiously red. Flattered, I say, "Thank you, Ron. But he's nothing like that to me now. Just... don't act like you want to hex his toes off every time you see him. Please?"

We stop rotating for a moment while Ron thinks about this request. "Okay, I'll try not to want to hex him every time I see him. And," he continues, his voice getting stronger, "I'm going to apologize to him for doing that before."

Surprised with his sudden maturity, I exclaim, "Ron, that's wonderful! Thank you."

"I'm doing it for you, because I know you like him, and you don't like it when I act like a git to him," Ron informs me rather matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Well, that's still okay."

As this slow song ends, the crowd erupts in applause, then another fast song takes its place. At exactly the same moment, we drop our holds on each other and begin quacking like ducks.

* * *

I don't know how much later it is, but after several songs my face is bright red and Ron is announcing his thirst.

"I'll grab some more butterbeers, see you at the table?"

I nod my agreement enthusiastically and set off to find Harry, a daunting task because I can't remember exactly what he looks like. The faces of all the other Weasley cousins seem to have pasted themselves in my memory in the place of his.

Halfway there, I catch sight of Viktor, apparently arguing with Xenophilius Lovegood. Viktor's face is bright red, and Mr. Lovegood is staring, appalled at him. After a moment, Viktor turns and storms off, out of the marquee. His loss of temper surprises and slightly scares me; I have never seen him angry before, even when I told him I just wanted to remain friends at the end of our fourth year.

Pushing the matter from my mind, I return to the side of the marquee on which we had been sitting. I suddenly remember upon sight that the only person sitting alone is Harry, partially due to his too-long, too-tight dress robes.

Plopping myself down on the chair next to him, I pant, "I simply can't dance anymore." I slip off my shoe and rub the sole of my foot, which is sore from dancing for so long. "Ron's gone looking to find more butterbeers. It's a bit odd, I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father, it looked like they'd been arguing -" I finally realize Harry has not been wholly listening to me. His face is pale and shocked, and he seems as though he just had his world turned upside down around him.

"Harry, are you okay?" I ask in a dropped voice, worried.

He just stares at me for a moment, apparently unsure of what to say. But he doesn't have time to respond anyway, because at that moment a large and silver thing I immediately recognize as a Patronus falls through the canopy onto the dance floor. Heads turn to face the lynx, their owners freezing immediately, shocked and frightened.

The Patronus's mouth opens, and it speaks in the deep, reassuring voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt:

_"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming." _

* * *

There we go! Finally, I hope you like it! The part with Ron and Hermione on the dance floor was the hardest write so far, because it reminded me of my Homecoming dance last year, where I had my first kiss. That relationship didn't work out so well, so I tried to stay away from it's details, and that didn't leave me with much to say. Forgive me if that part is a bit patchy, along with other things (you can pick and choose).

Tell me what you think, good and bad, and again, tell me if you have any ideas for Ron/Hermione moments! Or even Hermione/Harry FRIENDSHIP, if so desired.


	9. Bar Fight

Thank you all for the most amazing comments and reviews! My day is honestly made when I read them. Two things have been brought to my attention:

1. I have completely ignored Harry. When I read this I thought: _Holy junk. _I have no idea why; I just didn't notice I hadn't even written a dialogue between him and Hermione in eight chapters! Rest assured, he will actually take part in this story. He _is_ kind of important to the storyline.

2. My grammar wants fixing. Again, I apologize if this has made the story difficult to read and understand. I'll certainly be checking my writing more thoroughly now.

Oh, and the usual apology for the UNBELIEVABLY long wait. PLEASE forgive me!

* * *

Chapter Nine- Bar Fight

The lynx has only just disappeared by the time Harry and I are jumping up, wands in hand. Most guests haven't even realized that something strange is going on, but those closest to where the lynx had been standing were frozen, mid-dance, or just turning to see the last silvery wisps of light dissipate.

Harry and I throw ourselves into the churning crowd, searching desperately for Ron. I am buffeted by panicking dancers, who are meanwhile looking for widespread family members, so they can Disapparate from the Burrow.

"Ron!" I almost scream. "Ron, where are you?"

Cloaked and masked figures are appearing all around the marquee, and shouts of incantations are echoed on all sides. A burst of silver light flies over my head, whether a curse or protective enchantment I have no idea. I duck as it passes, and fear clouds my head. Where is Ron? Is he all right? Terrified, I scream for him again, now almost sobbing.

I feel Harry grab my hand as another guest barrels into me, grip it tightly so we aren't separated. I drag him in the general direction that Ron had gone, searching the faces of all the red-haired guests.

Then suddenly I feel a warm hand on my wand hand, and, turning, find Ron has finally found us. In an instant, I have twisted, thinking desperately the first place that popped into my head.

_Tottenham Court Road... Just get us away from here... Tottenham Court Road..._

After the split second of suffocating blackness, in which I grip Ron and Harry's arms as tightly as I can, I open my eyes and find that we have turned up in the middle of the bustling street. Thankfully, no Muggles seem to have noticed our sudden appearance.

"Where are we?" says Ron, relinquishing his hold on my arm.

"Tottenham Court Road," I answer, searching the crowded road for any Death Eaters that may have somehow followed us here. Ron seems to want to stand still, staring at all the Muggles and a completely stationary mural across the street, but I grab his hand and drag him through the crowd, saying, "Walk, just walk, we need to find somewhere for you to change."

Harry follows us up the wide street thronged with late-night shoppers and drinkers. Ron ogles at a passing double-decker bus, but snaps out of it as a group of cheerful pub-goers cracks up at the sight of him.

"Hermione, have you got anything for us to change into?" he asks me, ignoring them. He and Harry are still wearing their dress robes.

"Why didn't I make sure I had the Invisibility Cloak with me?" Harry says furiously. "All last year I kept it on me and-"

"It's okay, I've got the Cloak, I've got clothes for both of you," I tell them in a low voice as the crowd around us begins to thin out. "Just try and act naturally until- this will do."

I suddenly turn down a dark alleyway. Ron doesn't notice my sudden change of direction and keeps going a few steps before turning and hastening to catch up with me.

"When you say you've got the Cloak, and clothes..." says Harry, staring at the bag in my hands.

I thrust my hand into it, rummaging for the first jeans and jackets I can get my hands on. "Yes, they're here," I tell them, pulling out clothes and thrusting them into their owners' hands. Jeans, a sweatshirt, three maroon socks (I stuff the extra back in), and finally the Invisibility Cloak. Almost simultaneously Harry and Ron's jaws drop.

"How the ruddy hell-"

"Undetectable Extension Charm," I explain, glancing around into the dark corners and shadows of the alley. "Tricky, but I think I've done it okay; anyway, I managed to fit everything we need in here." I give the bag a little gesture to the boys, and it echoes like a cargo hold as a number of heavy objects roll around inside it. "Oh damn, that'll be the books... Harry you'd better take the Cloak. Ron, hurry up and change..."

I turn pointedly away from him at this, grateful the alley is so dark that neither will see my blush.

* * *

"But don't you feel a bit... exposed?" Ron asks, looking around the street at the passing Muggles.

"Where else is there?" I counter, inwardly cursing myself for not changing into something less revealing as a group of men on the other side of the road start to wolf-whistle at me. "We can hardly book rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, can we? And Grimmauld Place is out if Snape can get in there... I suppose we could try my parents' house, though I think there's a chance they might check there... Oh, I wish they'd shut up!"

"All righ', darlin'?" one of the men yells at me, obviously drunk. "Fancy a drink? Ditch ginger an' come an' have a pint!"

Ron opens his mouth to hurl something back at them, ears flaming red, but I grab his hand and say hastily, "Let's sit down somewhere." Searching the shops lining the street, I say, "Look, this will do, in here!"

Keeping a hold on Ron's hand, I lead him and Harry into a run-down all night café. The tables are all covered in a visible layer of grease and the leftovers of their previous occupants' dinners. I can't see Harry at first, but notice a slight compression in the seat beside Ron's as I sit across from him.

Far from making me feel safer, sitting in this café only sets my nerves on edge. I keep twisting around in my chair, glancing at the entrance frantically, hating not being able to see out the window to the street. Ron's ears are still slightly red, and he glares out the window at the drunken men hatefully.

After a minute of an uncomfortable silence, he says, "You know, we're not far from the Leaky Cauldron here, it's only in Charing Cross-"

"Ron, we can't!"

"Not to stay there, but to find out what's going on!" he exclaims in a whisper with the air of one trying to cover up a lapse of judgment.

"We know what's going on!" I whisper right back, even more quietly. "Voldemort's taken over the Ministry, what else do we need to know?"

"Okay, it was just an idea!"

We relapse into a prickly silence, broken only when a waitress wearing earphones and a bored expression stomps over. I order two cappuccinos for Ron and myself. As she steps back through the swinging door into the kitchen, the front door bangs open. I jump violently, throw my hand immediately to the handle of my wand, turn to face the door. A pair of thickset workmen squeezes into a booth across the room from Harry, Ron, and me.

I lean forward and whisper to Ron and Harry, "I saw we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once we're there, we could send a message to the Order."

"Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?" asked Ron, gazing at me in wonder.

"I've been practicing and I think so."

"Well, as long as it doesn't get them into trouble, though they might've been arrested already. God, that's revolting." Behind his nonchalant words, his eyes are worried.

Across the diner, the stocky waitress shuffles off to take the new customers' orders, throwing a nasty look at Ron. The blond, massive workman waves her away without even looking at her.

"Let's get going, then, I don't want to drink this muck," Ron says, noticing nothing. "Hermione, have you got Muggle money to pay for this?"

"Yes, I took out all my Building Society savings before I came to the Burrow. I'll bet all the change is at the bottom," I sigh, reaching for my beaded bag.

I've just gotten my hand on it when Ron suddenly lunges across the table, shoving me sideways onto the hard bench. A man's voice shouts what can only be an incantation, and immediately there is the sound of shattering tiles and glass.

Above me, Harry shouts "_Stupefy!_" just as Ron jumps off of me. I straighten up immediately, sliding off the bench and ripping my wand out of my pocket and finally taking in my surroundings.

The great blond Death Eater is slumped against the wall, unconscious. Harry is still invisible, which is helpful, because if he were visible we'd have a lot more to deal with than just these two men.

I've just come to this conclusion as the second Death Eater fires another at Ron. I scream inadvertently as thick black ribbons fly from his wand tip and wrap tightly around Ron. From across the room, the waitress screams, runs for the door. A jet of red light appears out of nowhere, just misses the Death Eater, rebounds on the window and hits the waitress just as she reaches for the door handle.

I point my wand at the massive man, but before I can use a spell he bellows, "_Expulso!_"

I dive to the side just as the table at which we had been sitting blows up. The force of the explosion propels me forward a few yards, slamming my head painfully on the wall. Twisting awkwardly on the floor to get a clear shot, I aim my wand and scream, "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

The spell hits the Death Eater in the face; his arms and legs snap together and he falls forward onto the glass counter. I slowly drag myself off the floor, shaking debris and glass out of my hair. I rush to Ron, who is still struggling against the ropes.

Aiming my shaking hand at the ropes, I say, "_D-diffindo_." He shouts in pain as my spell slashes a deep cut into his knee. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ron, my hand's shaking! _Diffindo!"_

We pull away the severed ropes and I help him stand. Harry steps over the debris toward the fallen Death Eater, tucking the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket.

"I should've recognized him, he was there the night Dumbledore died," he says, inwardly berating himself for not noticing the Death Eaters sooner. He turns to the second man, turns him over with his foot.

"That's Dolohov," says Ron. The name sends a jolt of fear through my heart, and I instinctually cross my arms over the scars on my chest. "I recognize him from the old wanted posters. I think the big one's Thorfinn Rowle."

"Never mind what they're called!" I exclaim, not even close to being able to contain my hysteria. "How did they find us? What are we going to do?"

Harry takes charge almost immediately. "Lock the door," he instructs me. "And Ron, turn out the lights."

I turn to the door, taking a deep, calming breath. I twist the lock on the door as the Deluminator clicks and the lights go out. I hear shouts in the distance: the drunken men, yelling at another girl in the street. I shiver and turn back to Harry and Ron.

"What are we going to do with them?" Ron asks Harry, his voice getting quieter with each word. "Kill them? They'd kill us. They had a good go just now."

I shudder, take a step back. The idea of killing another person, even a Death Eater that has probably killed a dozen people himself, is entirely unthinkable and repulsive.

Thankfully, Harry has a better idea.

"We just need to wipe their memories," he tells us. "It's better like that, it'll throw them off the scent. If we killed them it'd be obvious we were here."

Palpably relieved, Ron exclaims, "You're the boss. But I've never done a Memory Charm."

"Nor have I, but I know the theory." Over the summer I had read up on every spell I could find or think of, including specifically to look up the Memory Charm. I had remembered Ron and Harry telling me how Gilderoy Lockhart had used it on the heroes he had cheated, and thought that it would be a useful spell to know, even if I would never use it. I guess I was right.

I step in front of Dolohov, point my wand at his forehead, take a deep, calming breath. His eyes dart around in fear, staring at the three of us in turn, then returning to me.

"_Obliviate."_

Immediately, his eyes become unfocused and dreamy.

"Brilliant!" Harry exclaims, clapping me hard on the back. "Take care of the other one and the waitress while Ron and I clear up."

"Clear up? Why?" Ron glances around at the destroyed café as though it is just as we found it. I have to work to resist rolling my eyes. Classic Ron.

"Don't you think they might wonder what's happened if they wake up and find themselves in a place that looks like it's just been bombed?"

"Oh right, yeah..."

He reaches into his pocket and struggles for a moment, trying to extract his wand from pants that seem two sizes too small.

"It's no wonder I can't get it out, Hermione, you packed my old jeans, they're tight."

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry," I hiss at him, grunting with exertion as I drag the waitress away from the window. In an undertone, I give him a suggestion about where he could stick his wand instead and Harry gives a short guffaw.

Still muttering darkly about Ron's taking things (including myself) for granted, I Obliviate the other Death Eater and the waitress.

But when I'm finished, my thoughts turn to darker matters. How is it the Death Eaters knew where we are? They couldn't have followed us from the wedding unless they grabbed onto me as we were Disapparating, and I would have known that. Was it possible they were watching all places with potential links to Wizarding places, on the lookout for known anti-Voldemort forces?

Possible, but not probable. That would take too many people, and though numbers don't seem to be a problem for the Death Eaters right now, they certainly seem to have better things to do.

Once Harry and Ron have completely restored the Café, which took a surprisingly short amount of time, given Ron's apparent blindness to messes of any kind, they prop the Death Eaters back up in their booth and I voice my concerns to them.

"How did they know where we were?" I ask, turning to Harry as a frightening thought enters my mind. "You- you don't think you've still got your Trace on you, do you, Harry?"

"He can't have," says Ron. "The Trace breaks at seventeen, that's Wizarding law, you can't put it on an adult."

"As far as you know," I counter, uneasiness rising in the pit of my stomach. "What if the Death Eaters have found a way to put it on a seventeen-year-old?"

"But Harry hasn't been near a Death Eater in the last twenty-four hours. Who's supposed to have put a Trace back on him?"

I don't answer, but rather gave, worried, at Harry. He looks sick, guilty; it's not hard to tell that he's blaming himself for putting Ron and me in danger.

"If I can't use magic," he begins slowly. "And you can't use magic near me, without us giving away our position-"

"We're not splitting up!" I tell him firmly, and Ron nods his agreement.

"We need a safe place to hide," he says. "Give us some time to think things through."

"Grimmauld Place," Harry says immediately, apparently without thinking.

Ron and I gape at him in shock, but he looks resolutely right back.

"Don't be silly, Harry, Snape can get in there!" I remind him, hoping that in his moment of haste and desperation he forgot why we didn't go there in the first place.

"Ron's dad said they've put up jinxes against him," he reminds me, then continues on as I try to cut in with another protest. "And even if they haven't worked, so what? I swear, I'd like nothing better than to meet Snape!"

"But-"

"Hermione, where else is there? It's the best chance we've got. Snape's only one Death Eater. If I've still got the Trace on me, we'll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go."

Still not sure whether Harry's desire stems from sure of it's safety of just a desire to enact revenge for Dumbledore's death, I concede. I unlock the café door as Ron restores the lights. On Harry's could of three, we reverse the spells on the Death Eaters and the waitress, then turn on the spot and vanish into the dark nothingness of Apparition.

* * *

I don't mean to end on such a sudden note, but I really want to FINALLY get this chapter up. I hope this is to your liking, and as always, please review, and give my any ideas or wants for a chapter!

Or you can just hate on the author. But please be gentle.


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